


Neil, huh?

by Frenchie (Fauks)



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AU, BUT NO RAPE I SWEAR, Blood, F/M, I know weird right, Knives, M/M, OC Ravens, Raven!Neil, Slow Burn, THAT WILL NOT HAPPEN EVER HERE, Violence, andrew cares a little more thn youd thinl, beatings, but hes not a rapist jus an asshole, kevin doesn't have a backbone yet, messed up timeline, neil being sassy, rape vibes, riko being a dick, tw, went from no plot to some plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:19:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 49,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6952711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fauks/pseuds/Frenchie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrew meets Raven!Neil</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Neil, Huh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really wanted to do a raven!neil thing so here it is  
> it's two parts b/c whatevs  
> i shouldnt be posting this until i beta it but im excited  
> sorry for butchering the characters once

It happens when the monsters are watching an exy game at Kevin's ‘request.’ Edgar Allen is playing - why he wants to watch them, Andrew doesn't understand. He also doesn't care. At all. - and their opponent, that might as well be nameless at this point, is being destroyed.

The team moves flawlessly - one cohesive unit, reading each other's movements and twitches, creating entire plays off the tops of their heads that everyone is easily able to translate onto the court (as Kevin puts it before lecturing how the Foxes could be half as good if they only put the work in).

Whenever the backliners appear on the screen - and Riko, of course - Kevin tenses. Andrew originally writes it off as him being in a room with a backliner: “see the way they move, Aaron? Would it kill you to work with the others like that? Just suck it up during game time, Jesus.”

It's when Kevin let's a name slip that he finds himself perking up.

“Damnit Neil!” He snaps when the backliner on the screen passes the ball to a player that wasn't Riko. The move sets up a shot and the Ravens score again.

“Neil, huh?” Andrew finds himself grinning wide, eyebrows raised with amusement as he tastes the name, “Neil. There's no ‘Neil’ on the Ravens, Kevin.”

He shuts up after that, jaw clenched and teeth grinding as he watches the rest of the game in a blissful silence.

The final score is pathetic , 18 to 0. Half way through, Andrew could tell without Kevin's commentary that the Ravens were just toying with the other team, allowing them to break through their front lines, only to be shut down by their defense - by ‘Neil’ - and have the ball sent flying down the court and behind the goal; the cycle starts all over again. He remembers Kevin calling it a ‘Raven Cycle.’

The buzzer beeps and the announcers proceed to gush over the elite team in black, singing their praises over Riko and the rest. The camera shows footage of Riko walking up to a backliner, pulling him into a one armed hug before grinning at the fans and walking off. The backliner keeps his helmet on, but his jersey number (4) tells Andrew he's the ‘Neil’ Kevin let slip.

Kevin gets up and heads to the kitchen the second he takes his helmet off. His face is shown for just a moment before cutting back to the commentators, but a moment is all Andrew needs: auburn hair, ice blue eyes, a pretty face. His cheek is clean. He now knows Kevin's sigh upon standing was of relief, not exhaustion from practice. Interesting.

“I'm done. Bedtime for Nicky,” his cousin stretches before standing, heading back to their shared room, “Don't stay up too late.”

“I don't make promises I can't keep,” he grins in return, his attention focused purely on Kevin as he rummages through the freezer for alcohol. He finds it.

“TV is all yours,” he tells Aaron before heading to the hallway. Andrew gets up from the beanbag he was lounging on and follows, leaving Aaron to his video games.

He catches Kevin as he's about to walk down the stairs. It takes a whistle and a shake of the head to get him to follow Andrew to the roof. He doesn't wait for him to catch up, nor does he check to see if he'll follow. The footsteps and sloshing of liquid in a bottle are good enough signs.

He opens the door with a kick and steps out, inhaling the crisp autumn air before pulling out a packet of Marlboro and tapping out a cig. He's quick to pocket the pack once more before lighting it up, inhaling his first mouthful of smoke. Kevin gives a displeased grunt when he walks through the door.

“There's no railing,” he says. Andrew goes to sit on the edge.

“Then don't fall,” he mocks in the same tone. There's a huff from Kevin before he's plopping down beside Andrew, gulping down an unhealthy amount of the alcohol. That's fine. It'll be easier to pry information out of him when he's drunk.

 

* * *

 

 

“Nathaniel,” Riko’s murmur echoes like a shout in the quiet of the bus. The Ravens were driving back to Edgar Allan, sitting numerically down the rows with their partners. Jean had been sleeping with his head resting against Nathaniel’s shoulder when he jolts awake at Riko’s voice. Nathaniel subtly shifts to press his knee against Jeans, a silent show of support.

“Riko,” he responds, hyper-aware of the other Ravens behind them. He’d be stupid to think any of them would ignore their exchange. Jean is tense beside him, pointedly looking forward.

“Come sit with me,” he gently grabs Nathaniel’s shoulder, glancing over at Jean. Nathaniel leaves his aisle seat, following Riko’s lead to the back of the bus. Riko gestures for him to take the window seat in the last row; Nathaniel obliges.

“So,” he begins, leaning into Nathaniel’s space. The black ‘1’ is a stark contrast against his pale cheek, “that pass you made to Luke in the second half was clean. Nice precision on that, the drills have been paying off.”

“Thank you,” the bite was going to come, any second now.

“I was open, too,” he continues, “behind that poor excuse of an exy player, to the left of the goal.”

“Yes, I saw you.”

“Why didn’t you pass me the ball? I had a shot.” Nathaniel looks Riko in the eye for the first time since the game ended. If anyone else had done this while Riko was in a foul mood, they would have  been hit. This is Nathaniel, though. He isn’t as oblivious to Riko’s advancements as the older boy thinks he is.

“Luke had a better opening. You would have scored, yes, but it would have been sloppy- that backliner had no control over his feet and would have crashed into you. Then where would we be? A fight starting, you getting carded, and the Master-”

“Is this concern? Were you worried about me?” Riko interrupts with a huff of laughter, “That's cute. Also completely unnecessary. Since you were worried for me, though, I'll be nice; but the next time you pass the ball to someone else when I call for it, you'll be running laps around the court until your feet bleed.”

“Understood.” Riko smiles at him, something soft barely lining the edges of his piercing gaze. Nathaniel doesn't know if he should be sick or pleased that he managed to make Riko happy.  

“Great. You and Jean are going to do conditioning drills when we get back. I don't want to see your faces in the Nest until you've done everything twice- _and I will know_.”

“We will.” Those drills will take 3 hours to do, and they're not going to be arriving at Edgar Allan until 3a.m.

“Send Luke here on your way back,” Nathaniel stands and shimmies past Riko, ignoring the fact that he doesn't bother to give him space to move. The bus is quiet enough for everyone to have heard their conversation, so Luke is already standing and waiting when Nathaniel passes him.

He sits heavily in his seat, a sigh far louder than necessary threatening to escape. He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes before looking at Jean, face morphing into an apologetic frown.

“I'm sorry-”

“It's fine. Don't worry about it.” Jean is quick to stop him, openly giving him an encouraging smile now that Riko was focused on chewing someone else out. “You did great today, Neil.”

A slow smile spreads on the boy's face. Nathaniel had already played today; he is Neil now.

“You too, man.” They share a dorky fist bump before Jean leans away to get comfortable against the window, tapping his shoulder once to let Neil know he could lean on him. They'll need all of the sleep they can get if they are going to get through conditioning as efficiently as possible.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“So, Kevin,” Andrew starts. He's leaning back to support his weight on one elbow as his other hand is occupied with the cigarette, “let's talk about Neil.”

Kevin's sufficiently drunk by this point, and he answers Andrew’s inquiry with a frown, “‘Neil’…” He says, looking out over the parking lot below, “Neil.”

“Yes,” he encourages, “‘Neil.’ There's no ‘Neil’ on the Ravens.”

“No, there isn't,” he agrees, “because ‘Neil’ is a smart mouthed teenager that collects Exy trading cards and has no sense of fashion. ‘Nathaniel’ is the Raven. ‘Neil’ doesn't exist on the court.”

‘Nathaniel.’  That's a name Andrew knows. Rumored son of the Baltimore Butcher (true, confirmed by Kevin). Rumored to have killed his own mother (plausible). Rumored to have stolen millions of dollars when he was in middle school (unlikely). Rumored, rumored, rumored.

Andrew doesn't like him. He doesn't trust the amount of rumors surrounding this player.

“Nathaniel,” he finally says. Kevin nods in confirmation, picking at the label of the bottle with his blunt fingertips.

“He's a fantastic backliner - he and Jean are a force to watch out for if we ever play against the Ravens,” he chuckles humorlessly and shakes his head, “he's barely in college. Only recently turned 18." Andrew raises his eyebrows at the juicy fact.

“Barely legal,” he grins, all teeth. Kevin shakes his head, giving Andrew a narrowed eyed look.

“Don't. Not Neil.”

“You seem to like him.”

“I do. So does Riko.”

“Riko likes him?" He hums, tucking that useful bit of information away.

“A lot. “

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” There's a brief silence before he continues, “The Master forbade him from doing anything, though. He's a Wesninski, and the alliance between the Moriyamas and the Baltimore Butcher is fragile enough-”

“Boring~,” he sings, interrupting Kevin's train of thought, “why ‘Neil?’”

“Why do you care?”

“This is information I need, Kevin. I told you to tell me everything about the Ravens. Clearly, you haven't.”

“Neil is not a threat.”

“No, but he could be useful,” He takes the bottle from Kevin to steal a sip, noting how it's almost empty.

“Don't do anything to Neil. Not him,” Kevin whines again, sobering up only slightly.

“I need you to give me a reason not to.”

“He's a good kid. He and Jean are good kids.”

“You regret leaving them behind.”

“More than anything,” Kevin admits, hiding his face in his hands, “When I left, I wasn't thinking about the consequences of my actions. Now that I've been here, now that I've had some time to think...I'm worried. For all of them, Neil and Jean especially. Neil is the smallest one on the team and Jean is like me - he doesn't fight back. He's been taught not to.

“When I was still there, I talked Riko out of doing a lot of stupid stuff. Not everything, but a good amount. There's nobody who's as close to him as I was who can do that, no one-”

“You're underestimating this ‘Neil’ kid. If Riko likes him as much as you imply, then he already knows-”

“No~!” He groans. Andrew knew he was truly drunk if he was willing to interrupt him. Kevin removes his hands from his face and looks at him, eyes red and watery, “You don't understand what Neil would have to do...what he would have to give up to do that!”

Andrews blood feels ice cold at the implication, his own discomfort clawing at the back of his throat. He swallows it down with more alcohol.

“Kevin,” he starts, directing his attention to the 40ft drop under his dangling legs, “is there a chance that those Ravens would stand by and let him-”

“Riko won’t do that,” Kevin was quick to catch on, “he's not like that. He's not above offering it as a bargaining chip to Neil, though. Neil can be cold, but when it comes to things he cares about he's a fucking martyr.”

Andrew's grin is all teeth when he gives back the bottle. “You shouldn't be worried about them. They're not your problem, you made that abundantly clear when you left. Now go to bed, you're drunk.”

Kevin chokes on a strangled whine and finishes the bottle, tears freely falling from his eyes. “I can't. Neil messed up tonight, h-he passed the ball to Luke instead of Riko when Riko called for it. He's gonna be punished- He and Jean are- I can't _sleep_ knowing they're gonna be-”

“They're sure as shit not worried about you so get over it. Go to bed, now.” Kevin hesitates before standing. He accidentally kicks the bottle over twice before he has a grip on it and heads to the door. Andrew doesn't look at him.

He's processing the information he's learned, wondering if he should interrogate Kevin again for more info on his old team mates. He doubts that any of it will be as insightful as tonight's conversation.

In the end, though, he doesn't care. He doesn't feel bad for the Ravens, nor for Jean and Neil/Nathaniel/whatever. It's nice to have a sore spot on Riko to prod at that isn't limited to Kevin's departure, though. And who knows, pissing off another Raven could prove to be eventful; especially if the Raven's got a mouth on him.

 

 

* * *

 

Andrew gets his chance to meet the source of Kevin's guilt at the Raven’s district welcoming ceremony a month and a half later. Their transfer to the Foxes district came as no surprise to Andrew, though the same can not be said for the rest of the team.

The dinner is being held in a hotel ballroom 4 hours from Palmetto State, and the upperclassmen are not happy.

“What the hell do they think they're doing?!” He can hear Dan screeching from the front of the bus. Wymack doesn't look too happy being yelled at, and his response is cut off by Nicky's interruption.

“Would you have preferred having them on _our_ court?” He hollers, giving an exaggerated shiver and crossing his arms, “they would have soiled the integrity of the arena. I hope the insurance on that place is good, because I would have had to burn it down-”

“That's not what I'm referring to and you know it,” she hisses, her irritation causing the vein on her forehead to pop out, “Is this some desperate attempt to intimidate Kevin into going back to Edgar Allen? Because there’s no way-”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to,” Andrew silences her with a smirk, “It’s not a reputation you want to have.”

“As if I care what the press writes about me,” she’s quick to snark back, rolling her eyes and glaring at Wymack again, “Why are we going? They’re obviously baiting us.”

“It doesn’t look to good if we don’t show up, either,” Renee pipes up from her seat in front of Allison and Seth, “Let’s be the bigger people and act like adults.”

“Good luck getting the monsters to do that,” Seth snorts as he turns up the volume for his music. Andrew chooses to ignore him in favor of being more productive with his time. He looks at Kevin, who is nursing a flask in his lap and staring out the window. His jacket, like the rest of the boys, is safely stored in the front of the bus, leaving him in a crisp white button up and an untied orange tie slung around his neck. There aren't any available changing rooms at the venue, so they have to wear their formal outfits on the bus. He looks like a hot mess.

“You look awful. Pull yourself together.” He says, looking at the striker until he understands Andrew was _talking to him_ before relaxing back into his seat and looking towards the upperclassmen. He easily makes eye contact with Renee, who is asking with a lift of her brow, _‘will Kevin be alright?’_

He shrugs in response.

Time flies after that, with Andrew falling into a dreamless sleep and waking up to punching Nicky in the chest. He ignores his cousins complaints and stands up, following the rest of the upperclassmen off of the bus. Wymack is outside, passing out the jackets to the men. When he grabs his, Wymack doesn’t let go.

“Don’t start anything tonight.”

“I never do,” he grins and rips the clothing from his hand, “These idiots tend to start fights and I put an end to them.”

“No fights, Andrew, I mean it,” Wymack warns once again, “If you need to leave, then leave. If Kevin needs to leave, then leave. You know you can call Bee and Abby is already inside. Remember that.” Andrew gives a sarcastic two fingered salute and walks away, shrugging into the jacket and buttoning up the front. He turns and sees Kevin pocketing the flask, tie tied and hair fixed. He laughs at how Kevin is acting as if he didn’t get buzzed during the bus ride to the hotel.

“Alright, everyone,” Wymack claps after giving out the last of the jackets. Coordinators for the event have already spotted them and are on their way. Andrew spots a couple of the other teams buses, making a note that the Ravens and a few other local district teams have already arrived. “I don't want you sticking together the whole night, but make sure you're able to spot each other at any given time. No one is allowed to be alone, got it?”

“How annoying!” Seth loudly complains, earning glares from the rest of the group.

“I'm sorry, Seth. Is this an inconvenience for you? You know what, if you're ever in a room full of people who basically want to destroy you, we'll be sure to leave you alone,” Matt snaps from his position next to Dan.

“Nice one, Boyd. Real encouraging.” Andrew laughs glancing at Kevin to see a light sweat breaking out on his forehead. Matt realizes quickly what he's done and curses.

“Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-”

“Boring, let's go inside now.” Nicky is the one to lead the way, the rest of the Foxes trailing behind with the event coordinators rushing up to Wymack for a quick check in of who he did and didn't bring.

The main color scheme for the event is red, white, and black in honor of the newly transferred Ravens. It's overbearing to see it on the walls, tables, dripping down from the ceiling and in all of the center pieces. The Foxes’ orange ties stick out like a sore thumb. There's a ripple of whispers that pass throughout the hall upon their entrance, but none care enough to comment. A majority of the teams are already there, dressed in their own respective home colors of blue, red, gold, purple, and yellow. The Ravens are decked in black.

In the center of the room, towards the podium sporting the ERC and Ravens emblem, stands Riko and his coach chatting with a representative from the committee. Andrew zeros in on the Raven captain, feeling a smile forming on his face once Riko looks up and spots them.

Riko returns the grin with one of his own, looking over Andrew and at Kevin. He gestures with his head to the left, a challenge, before re-engaging himself in his group's conversation. Andrew knows Kevin will (hesitantly) accept the dare, and looks off to the side himself to see what Riko wants them to acknowledge.

It takes a brief scan for Andrew to spot the surprise he was looking for. Off to the side, holding drinks and sporting bored looks, are Ravens number 3 and 4 - Jean Moreau and Nathaniel Wesninski (publicly known as 'Nathaniel Josten'). They’re dressed in black with red ties, like the rest of the team’s men, and are doing an excellent job of speaking to no one.

Nathaniel is facing his left and looking at the crowds of exy players gathered in the ballroom, giving a clean cut view of his profile. From what he can see (and what he remembers seeing on the TV screen months ago) Nathaniel’s cheeks are still slightly round and full of youth. Even without making eye contact his blue eyes stand out sharply, complimented and intensified by the red tie and black ensemble. He looks as bored as Andrew feels, but he doesn't think he'll mind looking at the Raven every once in a while during the event.

“Great, they're already staring,” he can hear Dan groan behind him. The click of her heels, as well as a quizzical grunt, tells him that she and Matt are finally separating themselves from the group. Allison and Seth are quick to follow, with Seth groaning over how his back and ass hurt and Allison laughing at his misfortune. Renee sticks with Wymack as they look for Abby, casting Andrew a weary glance as she passes.

When he looks back over, Jean is now looking at the Foxes; eyes scanning over Andrew’s team mates quickly until his focus locks onto Kevin. The Frenchman is made of sharp angles and ice. The only warmth on his person is the soft brown hair styled up and away from his forehead, leaving light eyes and the number three on his cheek as the focal points of his face. He’s saying something, nudging Nathaniel only once and not even attempting to be subtle in his stares at Kevin and the remaining monsters.

Before Jean is even done speaking, Nathaniel, blinks and tilts his head towards their group. Even from a distance, Andrew can tell he perks up upon spotting Kevin. A sharp smirk slices its way onto his face and he turns to face them fully. Andrew can feel Kevin stiffen beside him and he knows exactly why: Nathaniel has a ‘4’ on his cheek.

“Ooh, they're cute!” Nicky says behind him, and Andrew has to resist the urge to punch him, “you know, for Ravens. They'd be much cuter without the numbers, though.”

“Dude. No.” Aaron huffs and walks away. Nicky squeaks and chases after him.

“No, don't leave me! There's too much black in this room - I don't feel safe!”

“Stick to someone who cares.” Comes the dry reply. Andrew glances to Kevin, who's gone white and still staring at Nathaniel.

“At least your mouth isn't open,” he huffs, playfully tapping at Kevin's chin with his pinkie. Kevin flinches, finally snapped out of his trance, and blinks rapidly.

“Let's go.”

“What, you're actually gonna go talk to them? I thought we already had this conversation, something about those two and caring-what was it that I said? Oh yeah: ‘DON’T.’”

“Let's go, Andrew.” Kevin leads the way, with Andrew trailing behind him.

As they approach, he can see Jean is asking Nathaniel a question while the latter sips his drink. Reading his lips, Andrew can't help but notice the way Nathaniel’s mouth curves around ‘Minyard’ in response. Nathaniel notices this too, and when Andrew looks back at his ice blue eyes, Nathaniel shamelessly winks.

Andrew can't wait to break him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also want to point out I don't remember if Nora ever wrote jeans description so if y'all could help Me out if really appreciate it.
> 
> Find me on tumblr if you want~  
> fennec-faux.tumblr.com


	2. Meet Cute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for butchering the characters. also, sorry if this seems too rushed or out of character for any of the foxes :/  
> (Dialogue is hard!!)  
> i'll go back later and fix errors  
> also, i changed my primary username. it's still me!  
> I also want to clarify that Neil and Nathaniel are two different people kinda? That's why there's a break in the narrative from Nathaniel to Neil- because that's Neil showing his amusement before becoming Nathaniel again

“Kevin Day, in the flesh,” Nathaniel greets when the striker and his companion are within hearing distance. He can feel Jean internally screaming at him to “just stop it!” but his face hurts and he's feeling particularly salty that evening, “it's been so long! You've changed so much—oh wait,” he reaches forward, aware of the way Minyard’s eyes are tracking his hand, and flicks his chest. There's a dull metal ring muffled by the fabric of his suit jacket. Kevin's hand flies up, as if he could stop the hollow echo by pressing against the flask, “I stand corrected.”

He looks to the blond, as if noticing him for the first time. “You must be a Minyard. Judging from the smile and lack of any life in your eyes, I'd say you’re Andrew.”

“Judging from the prepubescent voice and the complete lack of a spine, you two must be Nathaniel Josten and Jean Moreau.” Andrew is quick to counter.

“You know my name. I'm flattered.”

“Neil. Jean.” Kevin greets, a fake smile plastered on his face.

“Oh please, ‘Nathaniel’ is just fine,” he corrects, gripping his drink just a little tighter.

“Why is he here?” Jean asks in French, glaring daggers at the goalkeeper. While Nathaniel had been smiling the whole time, Jean preferred to keep the scowl on his face for all public occasions. Here was no different. “No, I will not speak to you unless he's gone.”

“You know he can't do that,” Nathaniel responds, his French just as fluent as Jean’s, “this is Kevin's little guard dog, remember? We're the enemy, here. Not to be trusted.”

“He's not a Raven. He shouldn't be allowed to listen in on Raven matters.”

“You'd be foolish to believe he doesn't know things already.” Nathaniel turned to look at Kevin, eyebrow arched, “that's a safe assumption to make, right?”

“You can very well guess why it would be in my best interest to share what I know with him.” He responds in the European tongue as well, once he's over the initial shock of being addressed.

“See? He's already aired our dirty laundry.”

“Kevin,” Andrew speaks up for the first time since they switched to French, ”unless the next words out of your mouth are in English, then we're done talking here. Same goes for you.” He says pointedly, challenging the Ravens with a smirk.

“You must be the life of the party.” Jean huffs in English. Neil is momentarily distracted by the pride he feels welling up at Jean’s sarcastic statement. He beams and casually brushes his hand against Jean’s arm as a sign of amusement.

A photographer with a ‘press’ badge approaches them, camera in hand and asking for a picture.

“Of course,” Kevin easily replies, and Andrew goes to place himself between Nathaniel and Kevin. He has a serene smile on his face, and Nathaniel can immediately tell he's as high as a kite.

After the photographer leaves, Andrew doesn't leave Nathaniel's side.

“So, Nathan,” he starts, and it takes everything in his body to stop himself from flinching at the name.

“Nathaniel.” He corrects, locking eyes with the Fox. Andrew remains stoic.

“My bad,” he acknowledges, “you just…” He trails off and gives an exaggerated sigh, as if he's looking for the right words, “you _look_ like a Nathan.” Another blow.

“Nathan is my father.”

“Oh, I'm aware.” He takes Nathaniel’s drink and sips it, eyes still focused on the backliner. “Whiskey, huh?”

“Yes.”

“A man after my own heart.” He reaches for his cup, but Andrew keeps it slightly out of reach, “Nuh-uh. Enroll in college first.”

“Nathaniel," Kevin tries again. He retracts his hand slowly, watching Andrew a moment longer and willing his rage to die down before looking at the striker.

“Your tattoo…” He starts, struggling to find words. Nathaniel smiles, lightly running his fingertip over the scarring wound.

“Like it? It was a gift from Riko.” Nathaniel took sick pleasure in the way his blow landed, relishing how Kevin  fought not to cringe.

“Awe,” Andrew coos, “how sweet. Anniversary? Courting gift? Proposal? Please tell me you said yes.”

“ _Fils de pute!"_  Jean hisses, tensing. “You told him about that?! _Mele-toi de tes oignons, lutin_!”

“Our last game was against the Pittsburgh Buccaneers - did you see it?” Nathaniel continues on as if Andrew and Jean never spoke, “Jean and I-”

“Nathaniel,” The Frenchman hisses, but Nathaniel ignores him.

“-We played great. Our goalkeeper could have just walked off the court because we shut it down. They were poor excuses of exy players. It was pathetic, painful to watch-”

“Nathaniel, calm down-”

“What was even more awful was our front line. Riko was dealing with family business and had to miss the game, along with our coach, but our strikers? Our dealer?” he bared his teeth in a snarl masquerading as a smile, “I don’t know what the fuck was wrong with them. Half of their shots were off by a foot, and the others that made it into the goal were sloppy. During the second half, I dragged Jean with me and forced the front line back to defense. We played the rest of the game in reversed positions- we got the job done.”

He tapped his cheek again. “This was my ‘reward.’ My choice.” He spits the word as if it's personally offended him, trying not to pay any attention to the way Andrew is drinking his whisky with a bored look on his face. Instead, he keeps his gaze locked on Kevin, watching for any sign of weakness that he could viciously rip at. The tightness in his jaw is not enough.

“Nathaniel...Jean, I-”

“You don't care. Stop acting like you do.” Jean sneers in French before switching back to English, “do you think we have any sympathy left for you? No. It's foolish to believe so. You knew what the consequences of your actions would be, so don't be surprised when you're faced with them.”

“Here's a thought: why don't you two just leave?” Andrew chimes in as if he were speaking with children. Nathaniel nearly sees red, and it's only Jean’s hand on his elbow that stops him from lunging.

“Clearly, Kevin hasn't told you everything,” Jean is smug in his appraisal. Nathaniel sees the irritation in Andrews brow when he levels Kevin with a look, but the blond remains smiling silently as the striker sputters. “What's wrong? Would you rather paint this picture of us being these meek and cowardly exy players? Because I'll be damned if I let you do that! Not to us! Not to Neil!”

“It's not my place to tell-”

“And yet you had no qualms talking about Riko’s disgusting infatuation with-!” Nathaniel cuts Jean off with a solid hand against his chest when he starts to get into Kevin's space. It doesn't take Jean long to look over and notice the knife Andrew’s pulled against Nathaniel's ribs.

“Hurt what's mine, and I'll hurt yours,” Is all he says as he takes another sip of the whisky, expression serene once again as he casually steps closer to Nathaniel.

“What's this about looking ‘meek’ and afraid?” He speaks quietly, invading Nathaniel's space. “You've got some brains in that pretty head of yours, Nathaniel, clearly you know when playtime is over.”

“Well, aren’t you just a little too eager to stick something in me?” The backliner hums, defaulting back into his sass as Andrew slightly increases the pressure.

“Where are my manners? Let me get you a drink first,” Andrew banters back, offering the whisky while his other hand kept the knife poised against his rib. Nathaniel grins, his eyes never leaving Andrew's as he delicately plucks the glass from his hand and slowly takes a sip. He pretends not to notice the way Andrew's eyes track the movement of his throat.

“Not only looking like a gentleman, but acting like one too?” The blond's gaze flickers back to his eyes and he smirks.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say, ‘gentle.’” he retracts the knife and takes a step back, “Just as I said, you're not as dumb as you look. If you even attempted to make a grab for your knife, I would have killed you.”

“I'm not one for laying all of my cards on the table.” Nathaniel shrugs, suddenly all too aware of the weight of the knife tucked against his hip.

“Tell me, Neil, are you the dealer or the player in this game of yours?” Andrew doesn't wait for a response, choosing to move closer to Kevin. Just in time, too: seconds after he stepped away, Nathaniel feels a hand come to rest on his hip. There’s only one person who dares to touch him so intimately like that, and the Raven quickly schools his expression back into one of indifference.

 

* * *

 

 

Riko feels threatened, and Andrew can smell it on him. He thinks it’s interesting how, normally, Riko would have gone into Kevin’s space and try to intimidate him with eyes and words. Right now, however, he’s zeroed in on Andrew, physically putting himself between the Fox and Nathaniel. Andrew’s eyebrows raise with amusement when he sees the possessive hand on the backliner’s hip, sees the way Nathaniel shuts down at the moment of contact. It's like looking into a mirror.

“Kevin,” he greets with a nod before focusing on the goalkeeper, “Andrew.”

“Riko,” Kevin tries after clearing his throat, “We’re happy to see your transfer to our district.”

“Yes,” he agrees, “how...unexpected. We, too, were quite surprised with the change. We couldn’t help but wonder, ‘who is there to play?’”

“So nice to see that Nathaniel has made the cut into your elite,” Andrew prods. Nathaniel’s eyes flicker to him briefly before training back on Kevin. Riko’s smile widens and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“Nathaniel made the cut a long time ago. It was during our recent game against Pittsburgh that he finally made the choice to accept,” he took a sip of his wine before continuing, “Sadly, I couldn’t be there. Family matters. Coach Moriyama and I did watch the game on our way back to Castle Evermore, and I was completely blown away by their initiative and the risk they took in changing the field. As soon as we got back, I offered him the position. I was ecstatic when he chose to accept.”

“As opposed to what, a celebratory candle-lit dinner?” Nathaniel, Jean, and Kevin stiffen at the implication. Riko’s eyes widened momentarily before a hearty laugh bursts from his lips. He tightens his grip on Nathaniel’s waist to ‘maintain balance’ as he finishes his laughing fit. There’s a spark of irritation in Nathaniel’s eyes for a brief moment before he returns to a more subdued state, and Andrew is disappointed to see it go.

“Oh, no,” Riko finally chuckles when he’s recovered from the fit, “we already do that as a tradition after every game.”

“‘We’ as in the collective-team-Ravens ‘we’, or ‘we’ as in-”

The shattering of glass interrupts the blond. Jean’s champagne flute lies in pieces on the ground, the liquid inside coating Nathaniel’s, Kevin’s and Riko’s shoes. “ _Toutes mes excuses_ , it just slipped from my hand.”

“I’ll go with you to get a new one,” Nathaniel quickly responds, “I’m bored with my own drink, anyway.”

“Allow me,” Andrew holds his hand out for the glass. Nathaniel briefly considers him before handing the tumbler over, both careful to not let their fingers touch. Jean and Nathaniel step over the glass, excusing themselves from the conversation. Riko keeps his hand on Nathaniel’s lower back for as far as his reach allows him, appearing to be helping him maneuver over the glass and _not at all_ as a possessive gesture of ownership.

“Shall we move away from the mess?” Riko asks, pointedly looking at the tumbler in Andrew’s hands before waving a waiter down and gesturing to the glass.“I’m honestly not surprised. Jean has always been a light-weight, it doesn’t take much to get him drunk.”

“Is this from personal experience?” Andrew challenges as he walks in tandem with Riko. Kevin falls into step beside him, body tense and giving Andrew vibes of, ‘STOP. BAITING. HIM.’ He ignores them for the most part.

“Yes. Remember, Kevin, when he got wrecked after drinking 2 glasses of beer? He’s a lot better now- he’s actually able to keep up with Nathaniel and Kendrick for the most part. By the way, Kevin, how's your hand?”

“Excellent,” He lies through his teeth, “it's healed quite well.”

“Oh, so you've recovered?” Riko asks, feigning surprise, “fully and completely?”

“For the most part,” Kevin hesitantly confirms.

“Though I'm sure you won't be able to play with that hand as effectively as you used to- probably can’t use it at all.” Riko wonders  aloud with a skip in his step, “but please remember my offer, Kevin, about the assistant coaching position for the Ravens. You've seen the shit show that was our game against Pittsburgh, right?”

“Unfortunately no, I've been busy with-”

“You're a terrible liar, I know you've analyzed everything from Jean’s throwing style to the way Nathaniel breathes when running. Anyway, after that fiasco, we obviously have an opening. Your guard dog can come, too.” He finally looks down at Andrew, acting as if he wasn't ignoring him, “I'm in a great mood and am willing to offer you a spot on the Ravens again.”

“I hope you do, only so that I can reject you a second time.”

“Oh! Uhm, h-hey. Sorry to interrupt,” All three stop and turn to look at the new comer. Nicky and Aaron are a few feet away, Nicky looking anxious about having to stop their conversation and Aaron completely disinterested, “everyone is taking their seats now. Turns out  we were the last to arrive and they were waiting for us.”

“Fashionably late,” Aaron deadpans, his apathetic stare trained on Riko.

“I wish we could say it's been nice talking to you,” Andrew casually places a hand on Kevin’s arm and pushes him towards his family. He knocks back the rest of the alcohol and hands it over to Riko, who—caught off guard— accepts it, “but I just hate being near you.”

Riko smiles widely at him, murmuring “Likewise, although it’s a shame we were only able to talk for a short amount of time, Kevin.” He drops the glass and walks away, leaving four waiters to scramble behind him and clean the mess.  

The Foxes head back to where their group is gathering by Wymack, Nicky complaining noisily about having to be the one to get them.

“Why me? I’m too cute to have my throat ripped out by an Asian psychopath!”

“Don’t worry, you’re not his type,” Aaron sighs, “He’d go for your face.” Nicky stops for a second before practically jumping on the Minyard twin’s back.

“That was rude and unforgivable! I’m everyone’s type!”

“He’s clearly got a thing for the regulation hottie over there.” Allison points out, gesturing over to where the Ravens have started to gather around their own coach.

Andrew only means to glance over, but finds himself staring when he sees Riko is standing close-way too close- to Nathaniel. The backliner is acting nonchalant  as Riko cups his chin, tilting his head slightly at an angle and admiring the ‘4’ on his cheek. He’s saying something to Nathaniel that’s making him bite back a scoff, and he looks up just in time to catch Andrew staring. This time, Andrew is the one who winks.

“How do you know?”

“I watched Andrew and Kevin’s conversation with those Ravens. It was mildly entertaining- he even pulled a knife on Raven number 4.”

“Damnit, Andrew, I told you to leave the room if you had to, not threaten their players.” Wymack curses and rubs his eyes. Andrew sent him a shrug  in response.

The team sticks to each other for a couple of moments before event coordinators are spreading out and handing off seating charts to coaches. After Wymack gets his, Andrew  lightly pats Kevin’s chest.

“Go ahead and get some liquid courage in you, you’ll need it.”

“What?” Kevin asks, eyes wide as he complies with Andrew’s order. Andrew merely points to the tables in front of the podium, stage, and cameras, drawing the attention of a few of his Fox teammates. Instead of grouping the teams together, the event has set up the seating chart in a way that allows the Raven players to get acquainted with other members of the district; a mixed seating chart.

“Oh come on! Are you kidding me?!” Seth scoffs with a glare. “I hate my own team members enough, now I have to socialize with these dickbags?!”

“Language,” Renee tsks. Seth’s vulgar reply is cut off by the look Andrew and Dan send him.

“It looks like we’re sitting two to three teammates per table. Kevin, they originally had you seated at the coaches table with me, but I’m keeping you seated with Andrew. Dan, you’ll be joining me.”

“Wait, what about me?” Matt jerks to attention at the sound of Dan’s name.

“You’ll be sitting with Kevin and Andrew at table 7. Nicky and Aaron, you’re at table 4. Allison and Seth, you’ll be at table 5 and Renee is sitting at table 2 with Abby. Everyone got it?”

“Yes, coach.” Renee answers for the group, smiling warmly at Abby. She returns the grin with one of her own and they jovially link arms as they walk to table where the assistant coaches, players, and team medics are starting to sit.

“I’ll miss you, babe.” Matt frowns and pecks Dan on the temple.

“Try not to do anything stupid,” Dan laughs and pats his cheek. Matt’s frown turns into a pout and he nudges her with his elbow.

“I’m not completely hopeless-”

“As touching as the display is, I’m leaving without you.” Andrew rolls his eyes and stalks away, Kevin in tow as they head to their table. The rushed footsteps following them moments later tells Andrew that Boyd is finally catching up.

It’s easy for Andrew to spot the ‘7’ on the center piecee. It’s easier to tell which Ravens have been placed onto their seating chart.

“So good to see you again, Nathaniel,” Andrew states, startling the backliner with his presence from behind. He see’s the way Nathaniel jolts and bursts into laughter, walking around the table and seating himself across from the Raven. Kevin’s seat is sandwiched between Matt and Andrew, two walls to protect him from either side.

From where he’s sitting he can see Riko at the table closest to the podium, where Wymack and Dan are seated across from him. He doesn’t look too happy about the arrangement, and Andrew is nothing but pleased. Meanwhile, he notes how Jean gives Matt a cursory glance before settling on Kevin while Nathaniel hasn’t taken his gaze off  of Andrew.

The way he sits differs from the other Ravens Andrew passed on his way to the table: all straight backed and tensed for a fight. Nathaniel is relaxed, slouching, while Jean follows the norm of the rest. The way he’s angled tells Andrew that he’ll easily be able to get out of his seat and run, if need be. He makes a note of that as well.

“Like what you see?” Nathaniel snarks, resting his chin on  his hand.

He ignores the way his teammates are staring at him, as well as the way the other exy players seated at their table are staring at Kevin starstruck. His focus is on blue eyes and auburn hair, “Honestly?” Andrew starts with a tilt of his head, as if he were evaluating Nathaniel, “against my better judgement, I’m starting to.”

Nathaniel grins at the challenge as if he’s in on a private joke. Matt chokes on the water he had nervously been sipping the second he sat down. Kevin is still staring at Jean.

“Well, let me be the first to assure you that the feeling is mutual.”

“Glad to hear it.” Andrew returns the smirk with one of his own. Before anymore can be said, the ERC committee member is at the podium. He taps on the microphone to get everyone’s attention. Camera flashes are going off capturing pictures of the stage as well as the audience at their seats.

“Good evening, everyone, and thank you so much for being here…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i honestly had a lot of fun typing this.  
> i can add a third and fourth part to this if you guys want, the third being their interaction at the table and the fourth a few months later (maybe at a game).  
> seriously, just let me know and i'll type it up for you.  
> i hope you liked this-Raven neil is so fun!


	3. Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be alarmed but I've actually thought of a plot for this. I know. Scary.  
> Because of that surprising development,  
> A) I will leave the chapter numbers as indefinite. It probably won't exceed 8 though  
> B) this chapter might be a little off because I had to work some plot stuff into it. Sorry, it'll make sense later I promise. If not ill go back and fix it. 
> 
> Again, I'm sorry for butchering the characters ( further notes on Kevin are at the end of the chapter)  
> 

“Hello, Matt,” Nathaniel starts, grinning at the Fox. From the moment he sat down, Neil could tell he was uncomfortable, fighting the urge to leave. It amuses him greatly. Conversation with Andrew had gotten boring- he could only keep up a flirtatious charade for so long before he lost interest, and Andrew was clearly mirroring his own dialogue back at him - and Kevin was someone who he’d happily never speak to again. Matt, though, was fresh blood.

Boyd jumps, surprised at being addressed by the Raven. Nathaniel can understand why- all of their other teammates preferred to keep up a stoney exterior, but that’s no fun. Events that include socializing outside of the Nest are far and few in between, so Nathaniel likes to meet new people.

“Uhm..hi,” comes his response at last. He glances anxiously over at Andrew and Kevin, the former rolling his eyes as the Striker grimaces. Nathaniel can’t help but laugh.

“Relax, Matt, I won’t bite,” he teases, leaning forward onto his elbows to show his interest, “how do you like playing for the Foxes? Is your practice just a giant joke with your teammates tripping over themselves to chase after the ball?”

“I love it, actually,” Matt answers, his eyebrow twitching with irritation. This just broadens Nathaniel’s grin, “The Foxes are great, and our practices get really intense. Lots of running, scrimmaging, throwing drills- actually, Kevin has recently shown us a Raven drill we could work with to improve our aim.”

“Did he?” Nathaniel glances over at Kevin, who looks ready to hit something, and stage whispers, “Tell me, does it involve knocking down cones on command using a rebound?”

Matt stiffens, “Yes.”

“Here’s a fun fact, Matt: I’m not sure if Kevin told you this or not, but Raven’s aren’t allowed onto the court until we’ve mastered that drill. It takes weeks for some, months for others, but Jean and I? We nailed it on our second attempt.”

“I’m assuming Kevin got it in one try,” Andrew exhales.

“What do you Foxes do in your spare time?” he inquires again, still focused on Matt. “Drinking? Partying? Drugs?” He latches onto Matt the second he sees him flinch. “Drugs? Really? How boring. What an outstanding group of teammates you have to work with Kevin. I’ll pray for you.”

“Why are you even talking to this one?” Jean sighs with a disinterested glance.

“Alright, fine. I’ll stop kicking the puppy.”

“That’s what you call ‘kicking the puppy?’” Andrew sneers with an eye roll, “Pathetic.”

“Sounds like someone wants attention,” Nathaniel grins at Jean as if they were sharing a private joke. He makes eye contact with Andrew briefly before turning back to Matt, “Right away, pot is on that list, maybe shrooms, but you - Boyd - you look like you’ve taken some hard stuff.”

Nathaniel leans forward, eyeing him carefully. Matt’s tense with a whiteknuckled grip on his glass of water. He’s silent for a moment, considering the man in front of him, before listing, “Coke? Heroine? Meth? No, you stopped before you tried meth, right? Or should I say,  you _were stopped_ before you could. Shame.”

He's quiet for another moment before prodding, “I'm right on the money, aren't I?” Matt stands from the table and storms away. Nathaniel doesn’t bother to watch where he goes, redirecting his gaze to the Belmonte striker next to him before Andrew’s heavy sigh draws his attention back.

“We’re still working on his poker face.”

“Good luck with that one.”

The waiters come then, creating a tense silence with their interruption of the conversation as they place everyone’s drinks down. Andrew sticks with the whisky while Nathaniel opts for scotch this time around. Jean nearly rolls his eyes at Nathaniel, playfully nudging their knees together as he mutters “you drink like an old man,” under his breath in French.

“Your profile says you speak German.” Nathaniel starts back up once the waiters are gone. He pays no mind to the new Fox coming to occupy Matt’s seat; a girl with rainbow-colored hair. He easily recalls her name to be Renee Walker.

“Have you been studying up on me?” Andrew coos, holding out a hand towards Kevin. The striker pulls an orange pill bottle from his jacket and hands it over. Nathaniel figures it must be his court ordered medication.

“I look up the stats of any player that has potential to make it to Court,” he replies honestly as waiters come to deliver plates of food. He leans back slightly to allow them access as Andrew throws back 4 of the pills, “I'd like to know who my future teammates are.”

“How arrogant,” comes his retort. He chases the pills with the Jack Daniels he ordered, Jean tsking with disapproval at his choice of alcohol, “but I’m not surprised to hear that coming from a Raven.”

“It's not arrogance when it's fact,” Nathaniel switches to German then, earning an unimpressed brow raise from the blond.

“Is English too boring for you?” He asks, not yet making the switch to the language himself. Nathaniel shrugs.

“Your feelings must have been hurt when we spoke in French earlier. I wanted to extend the same courtesy to you now.”

“Nathaniel, stop.” Jean hisses to him in French, “You know he doesn't like it when-”

“Riko's just upset that he’s shit at learning languages,” Nathaniel responds in kind, “just as you are upset that you can't eavesdrop on us either.”

“Be careful. Stop trying to provoke him.”

“Oh, he doesn't want you to speak German?” Andrew asks in English before making the switch himself, “then by all means, let's have a chat in German.” The other exy players around them start their own conversations with one another once they realize they can’t eavesdrop anymore.

“Don't mind him. The only time he isn't tense is when he's sleeping.” He glances at the two Foxes, seeing the strained looks Kevin is sending Andrew and the serene expression on Renee’s face. He can’t read her, and that makes him weary.

“‘Neil?’”

“Nathaniel,” He corrects again, looking back at Andrew when Renee sends him a small smile.

“Why ‘Neil?’” Andrew asks again, “Why is there a ‘Nathaniel’ and a ‘Neil?’”

“Since Kevin seems to love talking about me, I’m sure he can answer your question.”

“I have a theory,” Andrew grins, and Nathaniel notices for the first time that his dinner is left untouched, “You can’t believe - or you haven’t come to terms with - the situation you’re in: a member of a prison masquerading as a team, lusted after by your tormentor, beaten until you’re coughing up blood on a good day, cracked ribs and a torn ligament on a bad one – it sounds like a poorly written novel. ‘Neil’ helps you to disassociate yourself from this, which is the dumbest, most pathetic goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Careful, Andrew, you’re starting to sound like you care,” Neil snaps, his grin now a façade to mask the rage boiling in his stomach. Andrew stares at him a second longer before the edges of his eyes crinkle with unbridled amusement.

“Oh my God,” He laughs, looking at Kevin and then back to Neil, laughing harder as if he could tell how right he was, “Christ, this is so pitiful! Honestly, are you fucking kidding me?”

“It can’t be as bad as having your head in the clouds 24/7,” Neil countered weakly, “Tell me, do you feel anything other than the chemicals in your bloodstream? _Can_ you feel anything that doesn’t make you want to giggle?”

“I’m pretty fucking ecstatic right now,” Andrew’s grin is like a shark’s, all teeth and malice.

“That means your drugs are kicking in.”

“It means you’re panicking,” Andrew leans forward a bit, “you’re a pretty picture when you’re afraid. I bet Riko feels the same way.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Neil challenges,his blood freezing at the implication, “‘It takes one to know one;’ that’s how the saying goes, right?”

“‘Neil’ is a pipedream and you know it,” He continues on, unaffected, “‘Neil’ is vapid and dead in the water- qualities he seems to share with ‘Nathaniel.’ If your dumb ass is not going to do something about your situation, then you can just roll over and get fucked already. I can’t stand people who won’t help themselves.”

“Ah, how misinformed you are,” Nathaniel steels himself and sips his drink, “sounds like this is not the first time you’re saying those words. Here’s a thought: make sure you have the whole story before opening your mouth.

“What interests me, though,” he puts the glass down and pushes his own untouched plate to the side, “is how invested you seem to be in me. This doesn’t concern you, you were never a part of this - never a factor- and yet you are just so hooked on Riko’s little crush. Are you jealous of him or me, I wonder?”

“Neither,” He responds apathetically, “Kevin, however, is so hung up on this issue that I want it resolved. It’s annoying and distracting-the sooner you make your choice, the better. I hope to God you don’t turn out to be an idiot in the end.”

A Raven appears behind Nathaniel’s chair, tapping the backliner on the shoulder once to get his attention.

“Riko is doing an interview. He wants you.”

“Obviously,” Andrew hollers in English, “he hasn't been subtle about it.”

“He wants you to join him.” She clarifies, her posture stiffer from Andrew’s comment.

Nathaniel nods and stands, answering Jean’s concerned look with, “it's fine, I wasn’t hungry. I'll be right back.” He gives the table one more sharp smile before leaving to join Riko, who had left his own table to talk with an ESPN journalist a few yards away. He isn't surprised that the topic was his tattoo.

Unfortunately, Nathaniel ends up sitting at a new table (at Riko's ‘suggestion’). Jean joins him moments after he sits, their chairs facing away from table 7. Nathaniel tries not to think about his and Andrew’s conversation from earlier, instead locking eyes with the Fox sitting across from him.

“Hello again, Matt. So good to see you.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You see yourself in him, don’t you?” Renee asks later, as they’re boarding the bus. Andrew glances at her, cigarette in hand as he taps off the offending ash on the glowing tip.

“I want to beat his face in,” He replies, smiling as if referring to a private joke. Renee nods in understanding and hesitates.

“Be mindful of your actions, Andrew,” She says, “Kevin is here, with us, but Nathaniel-”

“Neil,” He corrects her before taking a drag, “His name is ‘Neil.’”

“Neil,” she starts again, “is not Kevin. Neil is not Matt. Just...remember that.”

He blows out smoke in her direction, just barely missing her face, “Allison and Seth are at it again. Better step in.”

“Andrew-” the echo of a slap from inside the bus interrupts their conversation. Renee gives Andrew one more meaningful look before pivoting towards the bus to help Dan and Matt reign in the fighting.

When she's gone, Andrew is given a brief reprieve before he spots Nicky and Kevin on their way back from the bathroom. The blood oozing from his cousin’s nose sets his blood on fire, and he tosses his cigarette to the side as he storms over.

“The fuck happened here?” he jabs a finger at Nicky’s face, barely able to get the words out without seething. Nicky and Kevin both wince at the hardness of his tone. Nicky is the one who answers.

“We were in the bathroom when one of the Ravens wanted to talk to Kevin; the guy with the ‘3’ on his cheek. I tried to stop him, but he suckerpunched me in the face-OW!” he yelps when Andrew grabs his chin and forcefully tilts his head back to examine the damage.

“You’ll live,” he concludes, shoving Nicky towards the bus where Abby and Wymack are in a deep discussion before turning to Kevin, “Explain.”

“Jean wanted to talk,” is all he allows. Andrew raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“The same Jean that looked like he wanted to flay you alive when he saw you? You’re a fucking idiot.”

“That was an act, put on for Riko,” Kevin stumbles over his words, trying his best to explain the situation to a thoroughly unconvinced Andrew. “He told me what it's been like in the Nest ever since I left...he said-”

“This is obviously Riko fucking with you and he's using Jean to do it. I wouldn't be surprised if he was hiding in a bathroom stall to hear your reaction.”

“He's gotten more violent. He's making up excuses in order to discipline the other Ravens.”

“Stop caring about them, they don't fucking care about you.” Andrew is getting furious, “Stop wasting your time —and mine— over this. You're doing exactly what Riko wants you to do; tone it down or I will make you.”

“He told me how Neil got the tattoo. Riko accused Jean of stealing from him—he made Neil take the punishment—h-he had to choose between accepting Riko’s offer to be on his Court team, to get the tattoo—o-or going...going t-to his room to _convince_ him why he shouldn't–” Kevin covers his mouth to stop himself, tears welling in his eyes.

“Kevin–”

“He's forcing Neil to make the choice,” he continues, words slightly muffled by his hand and eyes on the ground as he thinks out loud, “he wants Neil to choose him—but Neil doesn't function like that _he doesn't swing—_ he's told Riko before, Riko doesn't care, Riko–”

Andrew punches Kevin hard in the stomach, causing him to double over and collapse onto the ground. He moans from the pain, and Andrew kicks him onto his back and holds him down with his foot on his chest. He looks nonchalant with his hands in his pockets as Kevin's hands grapple at his ankle, wheezing as Andrew slightly applies more pressure.

“Gather yourself, Day. You're freaking out,” he hums. He watches Kevin's face for any sign of clarity before he starts to lift his foot, “I'm going to let you go now. Sit and breath. If you mention Neil, Riko, or the Ravens one more time tonight, I will not only hit you hard enough to make you pass out, I will also let Belmonte score on us next week. Understand?”

Kevin nods. Andrew takes a step back to give him space, but not before Wymack has noticed.

“Andrew, what the–!”

“Panic attack. I dealt with it.” He replies smoothly and walks towards Nicky and Abby. He gives her an expectant look and she responds with ‘flesh wound.’ “See? Just as I said, now get on the bus.”

Nicky pouts and does as he's told, muttering about the 'stupid attractive Frenchman’ as he ascends the stairs. Abby gives him a concerned look, which he elects to ignore in favor of looking back over at Kevin.

“Move it, Day. I'm bored with this place.” He's turning to step into the bus when he hears a quiet grumble come from the striker. It's barely audible; Andrew almost ignores it until he hears what Kevin actually has to say.

“Make a deal with me,” he stops, hesitating for a moment before turning fully to face Kevin in the frame of the bus’s door.

“No.”

“Andrew–”

“ _We_ already have a deal,” he clarifies with a scowl. Kevin pushes away Wymack’s offered hand and stands on his own, leveling Andrew with a look of pure malice.

“That's not what I meant.”

“I know,” Andrew confirms, “and I know what you want. And I'm still saying ‘no.’”

“Listen–”

“You have nothing I want, and I don't care enough to compromise–”

“Do you ever care? Have you ever cared about anything before?!”

“Get on the bus, Day.” Andrew reiterates one last time before turning around and sauntering up the steps, not bothering to check if Kevin is coming.

He doesn't have to. Kevin will always follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hey Frenchie, why is Kevin kind of Ooc in your fic?"  
> I'm glad you asked, Frenchie. The timeline for this fic is kind of fucked. In my timeline, Kevin's hand has healed, but the anxiety and self conscious fears that came from leaving the nest and abandoning his friends are still very much fresh in his mind. Basically he hasn't built his back bone completely yet. He and Andrew are still working on that. But he does make progress at the end of this chapter? Did you see him sassing Andrew?! He was a major dick about it but that means he's getting away from being Ooc and back to the Kevin we all know and tolerate ( and love)  
> Again, feel free to leave me questions, I'll do my best to answer


	4. Josten's a Fucking Idiot (p1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it doesn't become obvious enough, this fic is set in more recent years (as early as 2009, but i'm not going to specify a specific year.) Just know that it's recent enough for twitter and tumblr to be around for a while. as well as phones being able to connect to these websites. if anyone has a problem with this or any serious objections as to how it's 'soiling the integrity of the All for the Game series,' don't be afraid to tell me, i will go back and make adjustments where they are necessary. i honestly don't think it'll be a problem though.  
> other than that, here's some more plot. hopefully it's not as rushed or awkwardly presented as part 3 was.  
> sorry for butchering the characters. i hope you enjoy :)

2 months pass. Kevin's progressively getting better at aiming and throwing with his non dominant hand. There will be a few moments during practice when he ‘forgets’ about his injury and has to ice his hand for the remainder of the time, standing next to Wymack on the sidelines and yelling his critique at the team.

The Season hasn’t officially started yet, thankfully, but the date is rapidly approaching. They have a scrimmage coming up against a team in Pennsylvania and then their first official home game against Belmonte to kick off their season. Kevin doesn’t think they’re prepared, and Andrew believes they’ll never be Kevin’s level of ‘prepared.’

Surprisingly enough, Matt doesn't hate Nathaniel. As Dan puts it, he’s a “kill them with kindness” sort of guy, reaching out to Nathaniel on Twitter to try and befriend him ever since the Ravens’ welcoming dinner. Their exchanges have been amiable enough, with undertones of sass in Nathaniel’s responses that have easily been misinterpreted as humor.

 **Matt Boyd** (@moxboyd):

                       @RVNJosten4 take this quiz and tell me which Disney character you get! I’m Pacha :) [ https://www.buzzfeed.com/psykt/which-male-disney-character-are-you-1ungl?utm_term=.pvmgLYaDN ](https://www.buzzfeed.com/psykt/which-male-disney-character-are-you-1ungl?utm_term=.pvmgLYaDN)

**Nathaniel Josten** (@RVNJosten4):

                       @moxboyd I don’t need a quiz to know that I’m Nemo. You, however, are literally every Disney prince.

 **Matt Boyd** (@moxboyd):

                       @RVNJosten4 charming and handsome? :DD

 **Nathaniel Josten** (@RVNJosten4):

                       @moxboyd Vanilla and useless.

 **Andrew Minyard** (@andrwminyrd):

                       @RVNJosten this is more accurate [ https://www.buzzfeed.com/disneytasthic/which-perpetually-miserable-disney-character-are-y-11529?utm_term=.wfDAekgD5#.vr0Jarz1q ](https://www.buzzfeed.com/disneytasthic/which-perpetually-miserable-disney-character-are-y-11529?utm_term=.wfDAekgD5#.vr0Jarz1q)

**Nathaniel Josten** (@RVNJosten4):

                       @andrwmnyrd Hah.

Andrew asked Kevin once, after the dinner, what the Ravens’ guidelines were for social media. Once Kevin made it clear that they weren’t allowed to do anything to cause any scandals or any sort of negative backlash towards the team - that they had some freedom (even with their tweets constantly being monitored)- Andrew also  started tweeting Nathaniel more regularly.

 **Andrew Minyard** (@andrwminyrd):

                       ur feed is pathetic @RVNJosten4. do u do anything other than exy?

 **Nathaniel Josten** (@RVNJosten4):

                       @andrwminyrd I study grammar. Do you want lessons?

 **Andrew Minyard** (@andrwminyrd):

                       @RVNJosten4 ur attempt @ sass has only succeeded in makin u look lame.

 **Nathaniel Josten** (@RVNJosten4):

                       @andrwminyrd Admit it, I made you laugh.

 **Andrew Minyard** (@andrwminyrd):

                       @RVNJosten4 i admit tht u made me cringe

 **Nathaniel Josten** (@RVNJosten4):

                       @andrwminyrd The only acceptable responses are laughter or gratitude.

 **Andrew Minyard** (@andrwminyrd):

                       @RVNJosten4 u need 2 get used 2 disappointment.

 **Nathaniel Josten** (@RVNJosten4):

                       @andrwminyrd How are you able to spell big words and butcher small ones?

 **Andrew Minyard** (@andrwminyrd):

                       @RVNJosten4 chllnge axeptd.

 **Nathaniel Josten** (@RVNJosten4):

                       @moxboyd Stop him RT @andrwminyrd: “@RVNJosten4 chllnge axeptd”

Interactions like these don’t pass unnoticed by the media, of course. Andrew isn’t surprised and Nicky finds endless amusement in the ‘subtext’ fans and journalists alike look for. Currently, the funniest thing he’s seen (or has told Andrew of, since he is the one who looks for these articles and posts before showing Andrew the best ones) was a tumblr post that analyzed Nathaniel’s grammatical structures and Andrew’s exclusion of key letters in words. The original poster is thoroughly convinced of hidden messages that aren’t there, yet Andrew doesn’t care enough to tell her she’s wrong.

Wednesday evening, the Foxes are in the lounge, sprawling out on their respective couches. Wymack called them in for a meeting after they washed off the sweat and grime from practice, waiting patiently for the last of the team to trail in from the locker room.

“So kind of you to join us, Miss Reynolds,” Wymack comments without any heat once the blonde struts into the room. She looks pristine, as if she hadn’t spent 4 hours yelling, cursing, and slamming her teammates into the court walls. Andrew isn’t amused, a reminder that he needs to take his medication.

As if reading his mind, Kevin holds out the pill bottle.

“Oh please, Wymack, I will not be rushed,” she dismisses his comment with a flick of her pink clawed nails before settling next to Dan. She and Seth are fighting this week.

“Now that everyone is here, let’s get straight to why I called for this meeting.”

“You and Abby are finally dating?” Matt barely manages to catch the ball thrown at his head, his irritated coach looking far too disappointed with the save.

“We have a slight change of schedule for this weekend.”

“Pittsburgh canceled?” Kevin snaps, eyes wide and shoulders tense with annoyance. Andrew rolls his eyes and throws the bottle back into his lap after taking the pills.

“Yes, they’re not coming-but,” Wymack snaps when Nicky and the upperclassmen start to chatter excitedly, “but… we still have a match set up for Saturday.”

“Junkie,” Andrew hisses in response to the relief that sags Kevin’s shoulders.

“They’ve also agreed to make the trip to our stadium, so no travelling this weekend.”

“Who did you manage to snag last minute?” Dan asks. Wymack hesitates for a second, scanning the room and his player’s faces.

“Edgar Allen.”

“We’re playing against the Ravens?!” Nicky practically shrieks, “We’re not ready for that- are you kidding me?!”

“It’s a scrimmage, Hemmick! Stop yelling!” Wymack growls at his outburst, “It’s not going to be publicized or televised. There aren’t going to be cameras or reporters present, any news of this practice will be reported by either you guys or the Ravens.”

“Why would you ask the Ravens to play us?” Matt whined, covering his face as a show of despair, “Isn’t it enough that they’ll destroy us once the season starts?”

“Stop it, Matt. This is a great opportunity,” Dan speaks up, giving Renee a look for help.

“Dan’s right. We’ll be able to get acquainted to their playing style in a way that’s more effective than watching their past games.”

“Exactly! We won’t be going in blind when the season starts! Great set up, coach!”

“I didn’t make the call,” Wymack clarified, giving Kevin a meaningful look, “They’re the ones who contacted me for a scrimmage.”

“See? Suspicious,” Matt points out again, “Why would they do that?”

“Any ideas, Kevin?” Seth pipes up with a scowl, “They’re your former teammates after all. Or maybe Matt and Andrew could answer; they’ve gotten pretty chummy with that shrimp backliner.”

“Riko will want to see how much you’ve all improved since I got here,” Kevin answers with consideration, “He’s also testing how well I can play with my non-dominant hand.”

“I want everyone on the court for no more than 5 hours for the next two days. I want you running, sweating, throwing, and scrimmaging until you feel confident enough to look a Raven in the eye and spit on the ground he stands on.” Wymack orders with his arms crossed, “However, if any of you pull that shit on my court, I’ll have you cleaning the stadium until it sparkles.”

“Here’s a solution: slam them into the walls hard enough to prevent them from playing this season,” Seth smirks , earning glares from Wymack and the upperclassmen.

“I swear to God, Gordon, if you play dirty I will shred your contract and kick you off my roster faster than you can say-”

“Kidding! Jesus, take a fucking chill pill! I’m sure Andrew has enough for everyone.” Andrew levels him with a glare until Seth looks away. The pills were taking their sweet fucking time to kick in.

“Any more questions? No? Game time is same as before, 4:00 p.m. Raven’s will be arriving around 2:30-3 o’clock. See you tomorrow.”

Everyone gets up to leave as Wymack approaches the blond’s couch, attention focused on Kevin. This is a predictable conversation Andrew has heard too many times, so he tunes out the striker and coach in favor of getting his phone out.

“Will this be an issue?”

“No,” Kevin answers quickly, “You’ll get my best game out of me, but I can’t guarantee that the team will win.”

“Prepare them the best you can,” Andrew can feel Wymack's eyes on him as he presses ‘post’ on his tweet. He humors the older man and looks up at him with a dazed smile.

“Yes?”

“Will you be playing the entire game or the first half?”

“Hmm,” Andrew pretends to mull over his answer, “Seeing as it’s a scrimmage, I would prefer to stay for the first half only. But, since we’re playing the Ravens and I know Kevin wants me to stay in for the whole game, I’m still only going to stay in for the first half.”

“Your commitment has been noted,” Wymack replies dryly before heading back to his office. Aaron and Nicky stand to leave, and Andrew throws his car keys at Nicky when he notices Kevin is waiting for them to leave before he seethes.

“You’re not driving, just start the car,” Andrew orders as they leave before looking at Kevin, “you may begin.”

“You really want to give Riko the satisfaction of scoring on us?” Kevin hisses, standing up to pace, “You can shut him out - shut all of them out - the whole game and you know it. Why don’t you, for once in your life, think of the team?”

“I’d like to reiterate that this is a _scrimmage_. Being in goal the whole time benefits no one but yourself and your pride. Suck it up, you addict,” his phone chimes, interrupting their spat. He ignores Kevin in favor of checking the message, his face apathetic as he reads:

 **Nathaniel Josten** (@RVNJosten4):

                         But I’m looking forward to seeing yours :) RT @andrwminyrd: “i dnt want 2 see ur face on sat @RVNJosten4”

The emoji was new.

“What’s going on with you and Neil?” Kevin asks, grinding his teeth. Andrew locks his phone and studies Kevin for a moment before he stands and steps into his space. Although the striker has a significant height advantage on him, Andrew can see the tension in his shoulders.

“Kevin,” He starts, speaking quietly enough that Kevin is forced to keep his mouth shut to listen, “You’re not a Raven. You’re not his friend. He’s not yours. He’s Nathaniel to you now. Remember that- for both of your sakes.”

He steps away and heads towards the door, a smile blooming on his face as the drugs finally kick in.

 

* * *

 

 

The Ravens’ bus doesn’t go unnoticed by Palmetto state’s students. It’s a closed scrimmage, no audience allowed, but that doesn’t stop the twitter-sphere from being flooded with questions and snapshots of the arena’s parking lot. Curious crowds stand in the parking lot, shouting questions at the Foxes as they enter the stadium. None of them are answered.  

The Foxes change quickly in the locker rooms, jittery about the game and the opponents they have yet to see.

“Are they even here?” Allison questions as they gather in the lounge, “or are they still sitting on their bus?”

“They’re here,” Wymack answers with a sigh, “I briefly met with their assistant coach a few minutes ago. Coach Moriyama had other matters to deal with and hasn’t come today.”

“Did Riko join him?”

“No, he’s here.”

“Damn it!” Matt curses and kicks weakly at one of the couches, his grip on his racket tight enough to make his arm tremble, “we’re fucked!”

“We are if you keep acting like that,” Dan chastises and pecks him on the cheek, “Relax, babe. Chances are we won’t win, but that doesn’t mean we have to give them an easy victory.”

“Still sucks,” Matt pouts. Nicky is the last to leave the locker room and the Foxes head to the court. They start with a few laps around the court at a light jog before moving onto drills. Andrew stands in the center of the goal, leaning on his racket as his teammates take shots. He doesn’t attempt to deflect a single one.

“Can’t you at least try?!” Kevin snarls after he successfully lands his 6th goal.

“Building morale,” Andrew retorts dryly. Kevin tsks and turns back to the line, yelling at his teammates to move faster.

 

30 minutes into their practice, and they still haven’t seen any Ravens.

 

20 minutes ‘til 4, still no black on the court.

 

It’s at 5 minutes before game time that the doors on the visitor’s side swing open. Two lines of Ravens emerge, side by side, decked in black and red and wearing their helmets. They do a warm up lap around the court, a few members making loud remarks about the orange color scheme of the arena. Andrew can easily pick out Nathaniel’s jersey- ‘04’ - as they pass by, as well as Riko’s lean form in the front of the line. There’s a slight, _slight_ difference in Nathaniel’s gait, subtle enough to miss if he were on his pills.

The referee’s gather at the center of the court. Dan leaves the bench where the rest of the Foxes are seated to meet with Riko halfway. Kevin takes the opportunity to give the players some last minute advice.

“Riko has long strides and he will use them to his advantage. He’s also good at reading players. He’ll trick you into believing he has a habit - 6 steps then a throw, 4 steps then a rebound then another 4 steps, immediate pass to another player - and once you’re confident that you can predict his move, he’ll change it up on you. Be careful that you don’t get too comfortable with his movements- _do not get cocky_.

“The other striker Luke, when I knew him, wasn’t confident in his ability to land shots on goal. Based on their recent games, he still isn’t. He’ll want to get rid of the ball as soon as he can, either to the dealer or Riko- if he ever passes to a backliner, it’ll always be  Ne-Nathaniel.

“If it’s their serve and the dealer is a girl, Julia, then she’ll pass it to the left backliner or Jean-regardless on which side he’s on. If their dealer is a boy, Daniel,  He’ll either throw it to the goalkeeper or Luke, who’ll pass it on to either Nathaniel, Riko, or back to Daniel. The dealers tend to play offensive, but will move to defense if they’re tired or winning by a large margin.

“Seth, we don’t have any substitutes so you have to be careful of Nathaniel. He’s a runner - his dexterity surpasses that of any Raven on the team. He will have no problems keeping up with your pace, but always be aware that he’s faster than you. He’s also very good at provoking aggression from strikers; I guarantee you he will wait until you almost have the ball in your net before he steals it from you. He counts on your aggression to make you play sloppy, which just makes it easier for him to take the ball from you. His fault is that he relies too heavily on speed, so if you can land a stick check, the ball is yours. He’s also fond of rebounds, but if he makes the assumption that I’m telling you all of this, he’ll rarely do them. Do not over exert yourself.”

“When do I ever?” Seth laughs at Kevin’s discomfort. Before Kevin could tell them any more, Dan steps back into the group and huffs with annoyance.

“Out of the kindness of his heart, Riko is giving us first serve.”

“How sweet,” Allison rolls her eyes.

Kevin turns to both dealers and says, “As long as Andrew is in the goal, play offense. Both the dealer and Jean will be on you, but since he’ll be dealing with me, I don’t think he’ll be putting much focus on you. When Renee gets on the court, all of us - and I mean _all of us_ \- are playing defense. Our only chance to score will be in the first half. After that, we _must_ protect what little we have. Do not hold back on the Ravens. I’m not saying beat them up - Seth - but don’t be gentle either. Raven’s know how to take a hit, and they certainly won’t hold back on you.”

The referee’s blow their whistles to call  everyone onto the court. Allison, Renee, and Nicky stay seated on the bench as the rest of the Foxes file out. Wymack stands by the entrance to the court, gruffly murmuring ‘good luck’ and warning the players to be careful. Before Kevin and Andrew part ways, the striker hisses ‘shut them out’ before taking his place on the court. Andrew prefers to think of that as a suggestion rather than an order.

From his position in front of the goal, Andrew has a good view of the court. In front of him, Matt stands to the right and Aaron to the left. Dan stands between them, ball in her racket as she impatiently fiddles with her stick. Kevin is on the half-court line in front of Aaron with Seth to the right.

On the Raven’s side, Riko is on the same side as Kevin and the striker (Luke) on the other side of Seth. Jean and Nathaniel are at the far-court  line, Nathaniel in front of Seth and Jean in front of Kevin. Their goalkeeper is tense, bouncing on the balls of their feet; Andrew can’t find it in himself to laugh.

The 4 refs are on the sidelines, standing across from each other. They gesture that they’re ready to one another before the referee to Andrew’s left raises her hand and blows the whistle. Dan’s immediate response is to throw the ball to Andrew.

The game starts. He catches it smoothly and launches it up court to Seth. He’s slightly amused by Luke’s jolt, telling him he wasn’t expecting the pass to his side of the court. Seth wasn’t either but he manages to catch the ball and pass it back to Dan before sprinting up the court. Nathaniel merely waits for him to come.

Dan catches the ball and throws it back to Matt. He runs with it up the line 10 steps, body checking Luke roughly when he gets too close before passing it back to Dan. Andrew can see an unspoken agreement among the Foxes: they’re keeping the ball away from Riko’s side of the court.

Dan sprints forward. On her 5th step, she’s body checked by the other dealer but retains control of the ball. On her 8th, she launches it towards the back wall.

Andrew is surprised to see Kevin’s drills paying off. The ball bounces off of the back wall in a perfect arch, sailing through the air and heading directly for Seth. Andrew sees the interception long before it happens.

Nathaniel is suddenly in front of Seth, jumping and snatching the ball from the air before he hits the ground running. He runs three steps towards the wall before throwing to have the ball rebound back into his net. He repeats this two more times at 10-step intervals, running at a speed that easily surpasses Seth’s. After the third rebound, Dan is nearly upon him when he checks her hard in the side and send the ball rocketing to Riko. The Raven only has the ball in his net for a split second before he’s firing at Andrew. Andrew deflects easily and passes to Kevin.

As the game progresses, Andrew is quick to see that the Raven’s like to pass to each other through rebounds off of the walls, more often than not making direct passes to teammates when a shot is lined up.

Kevin’s analysis of Nathaniel was spot on, Andrew realizes. He is Seth’s constant shadow when there’s no threat or possibility of the ball coming his way. Anytime a Fox shifts even slightly in their direction, Nathaniel tenses, stopping only for barely a moment to gauge where the ball is going before he’s on the run. The only reason he’s able to make these stops to process movement on the court is due to his speed to catch him back up.

He’s used all sorts of methods on Seth: shadowing him, body checks, running by his side only to surpass him at the last second to steal his shot, jumping in front of him for an interception, even performing a stick check one time when he had the ball in his hands. He can see Seth’s aggression building, can even hear the timbre of his voice from across the court as he cusses out the smaller backliner. Nathaniel responds once for every 5 insults thrown at him, angering Seth even further.

Nathaniel is moving so fast that Andrew almost forgets about the subtle limp he had earlier.

Almost.

There’s only 10 minutes left of the first half when Seth snaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i realized i made an error in part 2 in regards to Neil's last name. I've already gone back and fixed it: to avoid any and further confusion, he's publicly known as Nathaniel Josten  
> Also, the issue with Riko's height has been fixed too. In my head I always pictured him and Kevin to be the same height? Idk, it was pointed out and I fix! Thanks again!  
>  
> 
> Out of curiosity, what are your fan casts for Andrew and Neil? I picture Lucky Blue Smith and Troye Sivan, not gonna lie :*


	5. Seth is a Fucking Idiot (p2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super flattered by all of the kudos and comments you guys have been giving this fic. seriously, you're all so sweet and nice ;A;  
> I just want to leave a friendly reminder that Josten doesn't have a split personality. Nathaniel is the raven and Neil is the boy we all know and love :3 (i haven't gotten a complaint about this but i do switch between neil and nathaniel twice, so i wanted to address the problem before it came up (if it came up ))  
> also, i'm gonna try to figure out what the hell my time line is because i'm paranoid about any continuity issues that might pop up further on in the fic.  
> Once again, I'm sorry if i butchered the characters. Thanks for reading! i'll try to update again tomorrow/in a few hours/ whatever

The Ravens have attempted 8 shots on Andrew; none of them make it. Out of the 6 attempted shots made on the Raven’s goal, Kevin has managed to score 2.

Aaron, Dan, and Renee sit on the sidelines. Andrew blocks Riko’s 9th attempt and passes to Nicky. Nicky gets stick checked and loses the ball to the Raven dealer. She passes to Luke, who pivots to throw to Riko. Riko catches it and runs 5 steps, shoving Nicky to the side and throwing the ball against the wall. Kevin intercepts before Jean can grab it and passes to Allison. Allison takes 7 steps and fires at the goal. Their goalkeeper can’t catch it, but deflects it towards the right. Nathaniel manages to save the ball before it hits the ground and turns to pass it to Jean.

The ball has just left his racket when Seth rams him from behind. They’re both knocked off balance and fall against the wall, Seth crushing the smaller backliner against the plexiglass. It’s a legal check.

Andrew thinks he hears Jean curse in French, but he’s unable to help- Kevin intercepts Nathaniel’s pass and runs for the goal. There’s a stick check, and possession falls into the dealer’s racket.

Andrew glances back over at Seth and Nathaniel. The smaller boy is leaning against the plexiglass, looking like he’s trying to catch his breath. Seth has already left him in favor of chasing the action on the court. Nathaniel prods at his thigh for a moment before readjusting his racket and running after Seth.

Seth gets the ball, but Nathaniel is quick to intercept his pass to Allison. He’s 4 steps ahead of Seth when he passes to Jean, coming to a stop to plan his next move.

Seth doesn’t slow down and hits Nathaniel again, harder than before. Nathaniel skids for a couple of yards from the strength of the impact as the referee blows her whistle. The second the time-out is called, Jean sprints to Nathaniel. Riko takes his time to walk over to his fallen teammate, coming to stop and stand next to Seth. Andrew is watching him carefully as the Raven captain leans in and asks a question, probably getting a threat in response based on the head shake and laughter he hears.

Riko leaves Seth and approaches Nathaniel, Jean and 2 of the referees. He bends and grabs Nathaniel’s upper arm, dragging him back to his feet and giving him a solid pat on the back. He says something to the referees before turning back around and heading to his original spot on the court. Nathaniel does the same, pushing Jean back to his side of the court with the butt of his racket. Seth gets a yellow card.

The Raven’s are given possession of the ball and play is resumed. Dealer passes to Riko, Riko passes to Jean, Jean runs and passes back to Riko, Riko attempts another shot on goal, Andrew catches the ball and throws it up the court to Allison.

Allison passes to Kevin, Kevin passes to Seth, Seth fires on the goal. Nathaniel predicts this and jumps, catching the ball as it just barely leaves Seth’s net. He has only taken 2 steps when Seth swipes his racket at his feet. Nathaniel falls on his back, his racket clattering across the floor and the ball rolling down court. Seth isn’t able to stop or slow down and ends up stepping on Nathaniel’s stomach and thigh. Andrew can clearly hear Nathaniel yelp at the impact as Seth falls. He leaves the goal, though, when Seth’s racket conveniently jabs Nathaniel in the helmet with enough force to snap his head back.

Whistles are blowing and both Ravens and Foxes alike are shouting as the referees and coaches storm the court. Andrew reaches Seth before Wymack, who detoured towards the refs, and rips his helmet off. Allison, kneeling beside him, and Seth both look up with confusion at Andrew’s appearance, and no one is prepared for Andrew grabbing Seth by the hair and dragging him towards the court door.

“Damn it, Andrew! Stop! Let him go!”

2 of the refs are at Nathaniel's side while the other two rush after Andrew and Seth. Wymack yells after them to not touch him as Seth squirms and curses in his grip, hands locked around his wrist to relieve the pressure tugging at his head.

“I don't know what voice in your head told you you could get away with that,” Andrew starts, throwing Seth down once they reach the door. Seth catches himself before his throat is crushed by the metal border jutting from the floor, “but if you try pulling that shit again, I will curb stomp you.”

“I should have known that gay shit runs in the family,” Seth spits, glaring up at him, “looks like the monster is protecting his little faggot boyfriend.”

Wymack pulls Andrew away as he's lifting his foot to crush Seth’s skull. He reassures the referee that Andrew is fine as the goalkeeper shoves him away. Seth is given a red card and Andrew a yellow for ‘picking a fight.’

On his walk back to the goal, he watches as Jean and the assistant coach help Nathaniel off of the court. He has a limp and his hand is clutching his stomach, helmet still on his head. Andrew assumes that the hit isn't as bad as it looked if he can stand to keep the headgear on, but he knows it's something more than that.

Ravens are given a penalty shot, which Andrew catches and throws as far and as hard as he can to no one in particular. He feels like shit, stomach cramping, shaking and sweaty as his teammates battle for the ball. He leans against his racket, watching the Ravens’ sideline to see the assistant coach take Nathaniel out the door to where the visitor team’s lounge is located.

Nathaniel is done for the rest of the game. Andrew will be too in 8 minutes.

 

* * *

 

Wymack almost snaps his clip board in half during the 15 minute halftime break.

“This has got to be, by far, the _dumbest shit_ you’ve ever pulled!” Wymack yells, nearly trembling from the rage, “How stupid are you?!”

“Getting carded twice within 3 minutes,” Aaron observes from the couch, dabbing at his forehead with a towel, “dumbass.”

“No!” Allison seethes and pushes Seth back down on the couch when he goes to stand, “YOU don’t get to be mad! What the hell is the matter with you?”

“I warned you about this, Seth!” Kevin hisses from his own seat next to Andrew, “I clearly remember saying that he will try to get you mad! You did exactly what he wanted.”

“Which was ‘kick the shit out of him?’ ‘Cause I didn’t do that!” Seth finally shouts in defense of himself, “Yeah, I tripped him and checked him a little too hard, but that black eye wasn’t me!”

“What black eye?”

“Are you serious? You were just as close to him as I was!” He snaps at Dan and rolls his eyes, “That fucker has the biggest fucking bruise I’ve ever seen on his face. You can try to blame that on me and my racket, but that shit’s already days old. I will admit that I did check him with the intention to cause _some_ damage, but he was plenty banged up before stepping onto the court.”

Kevin stands up and storms out of the room, snatching his racket and helmet on his way out. Andrew doesn’t follow; Kevin’s predictable enough for the blond to know he’s blowing off steam by shooting at the goal. Wymack sighs heavily and rubs his eyes.

“Their assistant coach got into contact with Tetsuji. He says he won’t have the red card count against us for our opening game this season, since it’s a scrimmage ‘injuries are bound to happen,’and he believes in my ‘ability to deliver a just and swift punishment.’” Wymack quotes, glaring at Seth the whole time. The striker is smug and relaxing back into his seat when Wymack adds, “I will not be putting you in during our first game. You’re benched and running a marathon the day of the game.”

“You know you can’t do that, you need me.”

“What I need is for you to show some goddamn sportsmanship and learn your lesson. _You_ did this. _You_ screwed over your team. Allison, Dan, none of you are getting any more breaks. You’ll be switching off between striker and dealer; make the call on the court yourselves. I'll see you tomorrow to fill in the registration forms.”

“Thanks, babe,” Allison flashes a cutting smile at her boyfriend  and puts Matt and Dan between herself and Seth. He scoffs and groans.

“This is bull shit! Fuck you guys!” he gets up and stomps to the locker rooms, grabbing his gear on his way out, “I’m getting the fuck out of here!”

“Bye~!” Nicky calls with a smile before the door slams shut. Wymack shoots a glare to silence him.

“Okay, guys,” Dan claps her hands, “I know we’re all tired, and we just played one hell of a half against the Ravens. Andrew’s done playing now, so we have to do what Kevin said and be on the defensive this time around. 2 points against the Ravens? Fucking awesome! Now let’s work to keep those bastards out!”

“Yes, sir! I mean, Ma'am!” Matt enthusiastically shouts, hugging her briefly right as Wymack blows his whistle.

“Back to the court everyone. Stretch yourselves out,” he looks and Andrew and mutters, “Stay on our side of the stadium.”

Andrew shrugs in response and reclines even further into the couch. The rest of his teammates file out of the room, Nicky sending him a weary look and hesitating in the door frame. The blond rolls his eyes.

“Kevin gave me the pills in the locker room. Try not to suck too much.”

“Thanks for the support,” he grins in response, knocking on the wooden frame twice before leaving. Andrew stands and heads into the locker room.

It takes him mere moments to punch in his combination for his lock and open the door. He grabs his lighter and a pack of cigarettes, slams the locker shut, and heads to the hallway.

There's a bathroom on the second floor of the stadium that Andrew likes to go to when he smokes. He's removed the screen so that he can stick his hand out the small window to get rid of the ash and smoke. It's the cleanest in the arena, and if he props the door open he's usually able to hear people approach long before they stand in the doorway.

He's mildly surprised to see the door for the bathroom is already propped open. Upon entering the restroom, his suspicions as to why are confirmed.

“Andrew,” The backliner greets, sitting with his back against the wall and the window cracked open above him. His helmet is discarded to the side and his elbows are propped up on his knees, “I didn't think we would talk today.”

“Neil,” he responds, stopping 2 feet away from the injured Raven. Neil doesn't correct him. He taps a cigarette out of the pack and pops it between his lips, throwing the box into Neil’s lap before lighting the stick up. After a few puffs, he tosses the lighter at him as well. Neil catches it easily and lights a cigarette himself. “You don’t look like a smoker.”

“I’m not,” comes his soft reply. Andrew can tell he’s holding the smoke in his mouth, “You’re a lot more mellow now than the last time we met.”

“What gave it away,” he deadpans the rhetorical question. Neil answers anyway.

“You haven’t smiled yet,” his stare remains apathetic to convey the lack of amusement he found in that statement. The Raven scoffs and rolls his eyes, “so, you're off the pills whenever you play?”

“It helps me focus. You already know that.”

“And now?”

Andrew’s answer lies in his pocket. He pulls out four of the small tablets, shaking them until they clink in his hand before putting them away again.

“Why haven't you taken them yet?”

“I've given enough information away for free,” he snarks dully, inhaling deeply and holding the smoke in his lungs. Neil watches him carefully, tracking the movement of his chest and throat as he exhales a pale grey cloud. Andrew squashes the urge to blow a smoke ring to frame his face.

“What a shame. How will we talk now?” Neil mocks, ice blue eyes still tracking the smoke as it drifts toward the window above him.

“Quid pro quo.” His response is simple. Neil’s laughter catches him off guard, though he doesn't show it. He swears the sound is tangible and glitters in the bathroom. He takes another drag to snap himself out of his thoughts.

“Alright,” Neil agrees, directing his gaze to the cigarette between his middle and index finger, “I'm curious, though: who's Hannibal and who's Clarice? Who _needs_ to know and who wants to?” Andrew doesn't allow himself to think about his question.

“Why do you smoke?” Neil’s smile falters for a moment before he ultimately lets it drop.

“Try again,” he prompts, nudging his helmet a bit further to the side before scooting over. Andrew accepts the unspoken invitation.

“Tell me about your injuries," He orders once he settles against the wall next to Neil. The Raven tenses once again, remaining quiet and giving Andrew time to catalog his wounds.

Just as Seth said, there's a giant yellow, purple and blue bruise covering half of his face. It's a couple of days old, and the swelling around his eye has gone down enough to leave only a smudge of black underneath his bottom lashes. The other half of his face, where his tattoo stands out, remains pristine and pale; untouched.

Andrew concludes that any other wounds are hidden under his uniform.

“I don't like that one either.”

“I don't care. This is a two way street, so pick one.”

Neil worries his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment, squinting hard at the floor until resignation relaxes his brow.

“Riko gets jealous very easily. He's paranoid in a sense that there's always a hidden message or intention behind everything I do or say.” He admits. Andrew exhales, watching intently as Neil inhales his grey sigh to visibly ground himself. “My use of emojis translates to ‘please fuck me,’ apparently. Imagine his disappointment when I ‘threw’ myself at you on Twitter.

“He hit me with his racket across the face during practice Wednesday night. When I was down he kicked me a couple more times until Jean got the Master to intervene. Afterwards, Riko offered me the chance to take Jean's punishment for interfering, and I accepted.” He brought his free hand to gently rest in his lap.

“He shredded my thighs and stomach. They're shallow cuts, none deep enough for stitches but enough to hurt,” he pulled back the sleeve of his underarmor to reveal a rope burned wrist, “the more you struggle, the more he enjoys it. It's better to have him think he's hurting you so that when he eventually does, it doesn't go any higher than a 7 on the scale.”

Neil taps the ash off the end of his cigarette.

“You gave me the truth,” Andrew says apathetically, “and with your first answer, too.”

“Something tells me you’ll do the same,” Neil counters, finally bringing the stick to his lips and breathing in, “I like our talks, Andrew. Even if they mainly consist of meaningless jabs on Twitter.”  Andrew shifts slightly at the admission; he knows Neil is pretending not to notice.

“I want to vomit,” he starts, “my stomach churns, my muscles cramp, I can feel a cold sweat cover my body. My head throbs. I'm going to shake soon.”

“And you're not taking the pills, because…?”

Andrew picks the word carefully, “Clarity.”

They're silent for a few minutes. Andrew lets the word sink in for Neil as he listens to the echoes of the scrimmage seep into the bathroom. A buzzer goes off. Someone scored.

“My mom is dead,” Neil says unprovoked. Andrew is caught off guard and looks over at the Raven. “Well, officially she's missing. I didn't kill her, though...just burned her body.”

“I have wondered about that,” Andrew begrudgingly admits, “along with other rumors surrounding you.”

“That's why I like cigarettes. I can smell her in the smoke sometimes.”

“You just gave me a piece of your soul, Neil,” Andrew grits through his teeth, “I wonder if you'll ask for a piece of mine.”

“Not now,” his confirmation is left unspoken, “not yet.” Andrew drops the stub on the floor and crushes it with his heel. He takes Neil's half-burnt cigarette and breathes in, feeling the shivers start to gather in the back of his throat.

“Why would you tell me that?” he spits the words, disgusted. Neil hesitates before answering.

“What gave me away?”

“You told me, a ‘monstrous’ ex-juvie drug addict who you’ve known personally for 2 months tops through sporadic twitter exchanges, about your mother’s death and your disposal of her body. You’re a fucking idiot, Josten.”

“I guess I could have done something else,” Neil admits after a moment, gathering Andrew’s items and holding them out in one hand, “something a little less dramatic. I also wouldn’t go with ‘montrous.’ You’re-”

Andrew grips his wrist tightly, uncaring of the painful hiss that escapes Neil’s mouth. The backliner is caught off guard and drops the lighter and box, impulsively trying to break out of Andrew’s hold for a second before stopping, “I’m waiting for an explanation.”

Neil watches him carefully, scrutinizing his face. Andrew knows he’s evaluating him, but not what for. Suddenly, Neil is gone and he’s speaking to Nathaniel. The switch is abrupt, given away only by the curve of his mouth.

“When I first met you, I flirted,” He says, a coldness settling in his eyes. Andrew lets him go, maintaining eye contact as he picks up his cigarettes and lighter. Nathaniel cradles his wrist against his chest, his smile growing sharper, “You can probably guess by now that I don’t swing towards either side. I haven’t had a reason to be interested in sex yet, but the way others are just... _obsessed_ with it...it’s disgusting.

“Don’t get me wrong, it has its perks. I have been able to dangle it over Riko for while now- well, had been; that’s changing,” He shrugs, “but with you...how do I put this? Flirting with you was frustrating. You threw my attitude right back at me, expecting no results other than entertainment. I learned then that you weren’t like Riko. In that sense, at least.”

Andrew remains silent, taking a drag of Nathaniel’s cigarette to calm himself as he continues, “That’s ok. I tried something else, something with more feeling. I’d never tried emotional manipulation- at least, not without a weapon. I didn’t think it would work. I guess it also helps that your teammate had gone and hit me a couple of times on the court; shows you’re not completely heartless-”

“You’re panicking,” Andrew realizes out loud. Nathaniel’s eyes widen with-surprise? Fear?

“What?”

Another buzzer sounds signifies a goal.

“You got too honest with me, Neil,” Andrew points out, a knowing grin on his lips, “you’re afraid.” A sudden wave of shivers jolts through the blond’s body; Andrew clenches his jaw in an attempt to fight the nausea when Nathaniel’s smirk rips across his face.

“Looks like I’m losing you,” he observes, ignoring Andrew’s previous statement in favor of focusing on his withdrawal, “Take the pills, Andrew.”

He already has them in his mouth when Nathaniel says that. He makes a show of swallowing them dry, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out to show they they’re gone. The smile plastered on Nathaniel’s face was strained, but his words are genuine, “Talking to you was nice while it lasted.”

Andrew doesn’t respond. He stands and pockets his lighter and pack of smokes, leaning on the wall briefly for support before walking to the sinks. He flips the hot water on, waiting a few seconds for the steam to pour out.

Once the mirror is sufficiently fogged, he writes with his pinkie the digits of his phone number, leaving a sarcastic ‘call me’ with a wink emoji right underneath it.

“Don’t keep me waiting long,” is all he says as he exits the bathroom, following the sound of another buzzer going off as he makes his way down the hall.

 

* * *

 

 

Final score: 8 to 2. Raven Victory.

The Raven medic, Michael, is on the phone with Nathaniel when the team pours back into the visitor's lounge. Riko immediately begins ripping into everyone, screaming about the first half of the match and focusing particularly on their goalie, Beck.

“Absolutely ridiculous. You let two - TWO - goals get by you while the Foxes had us shut out during the first half!”

“But Riko, Kevin-”

“He was playing with his freshly recovered  _non-dominant hand_ !” Riko enunciates, “His skill has been reduced to your level- _below_ your level, and yet he. Scored. Twice.”

Riko rubs his eyes and sits next to Nathaniel, who ended his call the second Riko started to yell. The Raven captain sighs and shifts on the couch so that he’s lying on his back with his head in Nathaniel’s lap. Jean winces in pain for him, but the backliner, sends his friend a look to control his poker face. Hesitantly, he starts to card his fingers through Riko’s hair, earning a groan from the man and looks of gratitude from the Ravens around them. They know what he’s trying to do.

“When we get back, I want everyone on the court firing shots on Beck. No one can leave until he stops 30 in a row. If I see anyone try to make it easy for him, they’ll be running laps until their feet bleed. Tell them, Nathaniel: was that a pleasant experience?” his eyes snap open and he looks up at the backliner expectantly.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Take his word for it. He collapsed from exhaustion before blood was shed, but I won’t let that happen to you guys. Now go shower; you all smell like shit.” The Ravens quickly file out of the lounge into their respective locker rooms. Jean hesitates for a moment before leaving when he realizes Riko isn’t moving anytime soon. Once alone, the captain sits up and looks at Nathaniel with concern.

“Sorry, I had to get that out of the way first.”

“It’s fine,” he answers, tone neutral.

“You’ve already showered?”

“Yeah, I’m ready to go.” Riko hums, eyes scanning his figure before he looks back up.

“How bad’s the damage?” he asks, referring to Seth’s checks as if he can’t see the injuries he caused days before.

“Nothing serious.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not. I’m fine, Riko; really, I’m fine.” he nods, looking to be thinking over Nathaniel’s words before something cold settles in his expression.

“Fine enough to have kept playing?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“Riko-”

“That’s what you’re telling me right now with your bullshit,” he snarks, “Since you’re ‘fine,’ you’ll be joining the rest of the team when we get back to Castle Evermore.”

“I won’t slack off.” He accepts the punishment.

“I will be watching you, Nathaniel,” Riko stands and grabs the helmet he threw when he first walked in. He pauses in the doorway to the locker rooms before asking, “Did you have a chance to talk to Andrew?”

Nathaniel hesitated. “Yes,” he eventually answers, “in the bathroom on the second floor. He gave me a cigarette.”

“What were you doing there?”

“Michael wanted me to look for a first aid kit. I got lost.”

“Did you talk about anything?”

“No. He was too busy smoking to say anything to me. He just offered a cigarette and I left.” Riko looks at him a moment longer.

“I appreciate your honesty. Run 8 laps when we get back before joining the rest of the team on the court.”

“Will do.” Riko pivots and walks into the locker room. Nathaniel hears him shout at the team to pick up the pace when his phone chimes with a message. He's quick to pick it up and switch it to ‘vibrate’ before opening the text.

 _\+ 10195557832:_ if u give me sum dmbass contact name i s2g ill make u regrt it

Neil huffs at Andrew’s reply to his earlier message and responds with ‘ _Glad to see your grammar is consistently atrocious_ ’ before opening his contact information. He labels the number simply as ‘A’ and pockets the phone, gingerly shifting in his seat.

He had to wait for Jean before he could go to the bus, but he wasn’t in a hurry. He could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANDREWS PHONE NUMBER IS NOT REAL JUST KEYBOARD SMASH! Don't click or call, idk why thats an option !
> 
>  
> 
> Also Riko and Neil aren't dating. Riko is just an asshole and a possessive bastard. I'll clarify more in the next update. My bad!


	6. Vodka is a poor substitute for Milk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning- panic attacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i don't know what took me so long.  
> that's a lie i know exactly why this took so long. i didn't feel like i was writing the characters accurately enough. i didn't like how i made Kevin an overdramatic crybaby- i missed that steel that we see him have in the books, so i tried bringing that back. also, it's been MONTHS since i finished the trilogy, but i went back recently and reread about 40% of the first book (thanks kindle) to get a better grasp on drugged up andrew. i hope it translates well. if not, then my excuses are it's just a fic, they're not my characters so i don't know them well, and i'm a terrible writer.  
> updates will become more sporadic due to the beginning of my summer job. hopefully, i'll be done early july, but i won't know for sure until the 15th. I'm working as a writing tutor, so i have 15 students whose papers i have to read and grade and give feed back on for the next couple of weeks, so please forgive me for slow updates.  
> seriously, i cannot thank you enough for the support and love you've been showing this fic! i only wish i could write the characters better for you :( (let me be dramatic, aight?)  
> once again, i'm sorry if i butchered your precious babies. i am going back in my free time to reread and bookmark bits of the series to help me in writing the characters. i hope you enjoyed :) feel free to leave your questions and comments below!

Riko is filming for a sports program that afternoon. The Ravens are given a break from practice to watch the live feed from the Nest, gathering in the lounge and sitting in their pairs. With the privilege of being part of Riko’s elite, Jean and Nathaniel are given the centered couch in front of the tv. On the couch to their left sits Grant and Jakob, to their right, Julia and Daniel. The rest of the Ravens have either dragged chairs in from another room, taken their seats on the floor, or have preferred to stand.

The Ravens are comprised of players from...similar backgrounds, as far as Nathaniel knows. Some born with talent and recruited, others trained to earn theirs through sweat, tears, and blood, all sold to the main branch and passed along to the Master, all Riko's punching bags.

Backliner sub Jakob, the son of Kengo’s Russian contact that needed assistance escaping a Siberian prison, has heterochromia iridis - his left eye blue and right eye green -  worshipped by exy fans and the media alike. Riko, too, has a fascination with his eyes; likes to scratch at them with his fingernails. His partner is striker sub Grant, also the second son of an empire on the west coast. One would think he and Riko would see themselves as brothers or kindred spirits. Riko, however, sees him as a reminder, an obstacle, a reflection – and he's disgusted. After Jean and Neil, he receives the worst of the punishments. Just as Riko doesn't ever want to be like Grant (cast aside and forgotten), Grant never wants to be like Riko. Only time will tell.

Starting dealers Julia and Daniel, siblings and partners, were recruited by the Master to hone their skills as defensive dealers. Their parents parted with them willingly: rich has-beens looking for torphy children to bring them back into the limelight. They write every once in awhile. The siblings are competitive, which helps drive their passion. Riko likes to test who can remain quiet the longest.

Backliner sub Vijay is the son of another Moriyama contact in India, sent to study in America and learn the sport of Exy. He says there aren't many differences between the Moriyama’s care and his home life, other than the weather. This encourages Riko to get creative. His partner is dealer sub Beatrice, who wrote to Tetsuji for the chance to train with the Ravens. Moved by her letter, and impressed by the tape sent along with it,  the Master reached out to offer her a spot on the team. She got her wish: she's now kept under the Moriyama's training and supervision; unfortunately, so is the rest of her family.

Goalkeeper sub Javier sold his own life to the Moriyama's to save that of his mothers’. Until he pays back triple of what they stole, he's Riko's to do with as he pleases. The Raven captain has taken to ropes and bats for the Spaniard. He thinks it's appropriate, a throwback to games Javier might have played as a child. Starting striker and Kevin's replacement, Luke, is his partner. He's brawny and large, looking more like a linebacker than a striker with the personality of a class clown. With no family left and a history of mental health issues of his own, he does everything he can to keep the Ravens spirits up. Riko does everything he can to break him.

Gabriela is a mystery. Riko doesn't touch her; it's rumored that he's not allowed to. It's a touchy subject for his pride, and even Nathaniel has been shut down in asking why. That doesn't stop him from working her to exhaustion on the court and sleep deprivation in the Nest. She’s assigned to look after their starting goalkeeper Beck, a prodigy in the field of Exy, freshly recruited to the Ravens out of high school. He's the newest Raven on the team and has yet to feel the full extent of Riko's wrath. He has seen the results of such rage on his teammates, and with mama bear Gabriela as his partner, he has somewhat succeeded in flying under the radar.

Nathaniel has a soft spot for him.

On the TV, the camera zooms in on a pretty blond and a bulky dark skinned woman. The blond smiles brightly to the lens and greets, “ _welcome back, everyone! We are half-way through our Exy hour and joining us today for our next segment is the team captain of the Edgar Allan Ravens and arguably the best striker of Class I Exy, Riko Moriyama!”_

“ _Hello, David. Thanks for having me,_ ” the camera flicks to Riko, who’s sporting a smile many of the Ravens have been trained to do before press conferences. " _Natasha, you look lovely._ ”

“ _You’re too kind,"_ she dismisses the compliment with a gentle smile. Three Ravens roll their eyes, “ _Thank you for joining us on the show today_.”

_“My pleasure. It’s not very often I get a break from Exy.”_

_“And here we are, dragging you in just to talk about it,”_ the camera cuts to a wide shot of them laughing, “ _So, Riko?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“We were hoping you could tell us a little bit about your teammates,”_ David starts, “T _here have been a few changes to the line-up ever since Kevin Day’s departure, as well as a new addition to your elite Court team.”_

 _“Yes, that’s true,_ ” Riko agrees with an amused huff, “ _Although Kevin left us, it didn’t take very long to rework some positions to accommodate his absence. We also have a few new faces that have made their debut this past year, as I'm sure many people have noticed from our pre-season scrimmages and press conferences.”_

 _“Oh yes! We're excited to hear about these new players, especially your new number 4,”_ Natasha gushes with a genuine chuckle. Riko smiles tightly and laughs.

_“Yes, let's get to him later. For now, tell us about your new starting line-up. Luke Johnson, as we all know from the past 2 seasons,  is a great player- very good at passes and snap decisions. Is he likely to keep replacing Kevin's position as starting striker?”_

“Oh, here we go,” Luke huffs dramatically. Javier gives him a pointed look to quiet down.

_“Luke's a great guy-very funny. He has a lot of potential to become a very successful striker on the pro teams, he just...his confidence with the ball is lacking. He relies too heavily on my ability to score and on Jean and Nathaniel to set up shots for us. He just needs to practice; he can out-maneuver these backliners, that's not the problem area; it's mainly predicting the opposing goalkeeper’s moves and his own negative opinion of himself as a player.”_

“Yeah, ‘funny guy,’” Grant snorts, “Don't know how many times I've heard him say that before hitting you with a racket.”

“Watch your tongue,” Javier warns, “Just because he’s gone doesn’t mean he’s not here.”

“How cryptic,” Luke smiles kindly, “but just a little too cryptic. To sound threatening, your threat has to make sense.”

“Luke, really?” Javier glares at him, the barest hint of a smile threatening to split his scowl.

“Enough,” Daniel hisses, glare prominent even in the dim light, “he’s not done talking.”

“ _How about your newest member to the line-up, Beck De Leon?"_

“ _Beck’s high school Exy coach sent us footage of their games for us to consider when we announced an available position on the team. Many schools, players, and coaches doubt that we look through the footage they send us, but that’s not true. When we ask for candidates and schools send us their player’s profiles, we comb through every single one looking for the best. Beck made the cut._ ”

“ _There’s been some footage posted of his work in the goal, both from pre-season scrimmages and from his high school games that some Exy fans managed to find,_ ” they all laugh at what David’s tone implies, “ _seriously, some fans are extremely dedicated! But Beck is phenomenal in the goal. We haven’t seen the likes of him since Andrew Minyard played with the Palmetto State Foxes towards the end of their season last spring. How do you think he compares to Minyard?”_

Riko’s rage toward the blond is betrayed by a glint in his eyes, caught only by Nathaniel and the Ravens. “ _Beck is not without his flaws; he tends to have ‘off days’ where he’ll fumble with his passes, but we’re working on his consistency. He’s steadily improving._

_“However, it’s easy to see how Minyard can appear impressive when faced with the teams of this district. I would say that the fans will be able to see for themselves exactly how talented Beck is - how effective of a goalkeeper he makes - but that depends entirely on how well the teams of this district will be able to get their shots past our backliners.”_

“ _That’s a bold statement to make, Riko,_ ” Natasha chides.

“It’s the truth,” Gabriela mutters, arms crossed.

“ _It’s only bold if it can’t be backed up. Otherwise, it’s fact._ ”

“ _Speaking of your backliners, let’s move on to Nathaniel Josten_ ,” David transitions, _“I’m sure I'm not the only one wanting to learn more about your player. Josten was added to the Raven lineup just a few months ago in the spring.”_

“I wonder what he’ll have to say,” Beatrice snaps sarcastically.

Nathaniel tenses, sensing Jean subtly shifting beside him. He feels the graze of fingertips against his wrist, but pulls his hand away before Jean can latch on. He doesn’t need support. He glances over to his team, their eyes visible only by the glittering from the light of the screen; a conspiracy of ravens watching in the dark.

“ _Yes, Nathaniel is exceedingly bright. We grew up together - myself, Kevin, and Nathaniel in the beginning with Jean joining us later - and we were all homeschooled for the most part. Kevin and I eventually moved on to attend high school, as many know, while Nathaniel preferred to work at his own pace. It paid off, since he graduated early enough to join us this past spring. Edgar Allan was kind enough to admit him for the spring semester.”_

_“Did the school want to wait until he turned 18?”_

_“His age wasn’t an issue when it came to applying for Edgar Allan University. His youth as well as his late admission, however, required some conditions with the NCAA and ERC. We had to make it half way through the play offs before we were allowed to add him to the team, if only to show that we could fairly earn our position in the finals without him as well as give him time to turn 18. The committee wasn’t very comfortable with the idea of a minor on the court, but that condition was met long before he joined us.”_

_“As well as your team played after Kevin’s accident last winter, Josten’s talent as a backliner is…”_ David laughs, appearing to try and find the right words, “ _he’s absolutely incredible. He’s a speed demon! The way he can out-maneuver players twice his size and make it look so effortless is truly impressive.”_

 _“Careful, David, your fanboy is showing,”_ Natasha laughs. Riko joins in with a chuckle of his own while David struggles to deny the accusation.

“Oh look at that, another suitor.”

 _“Ferme ta bouche_ ,” Jean is quick to respond. Nathaniel places two fingers lightly on his thigh, warning him to stop.

“I hate it when you guys do that,” Daniel tsks.

“Learn to speak a new language, Yankee.”

_“It's true, Nathaniel can be very fast on the court. We've spent hours working on his dexterity and speed in training, I'm glad to see others are noticing.”_

_“So, when exactly did Josten get his tattoo?”_

_“Over the summer, actually. We had a reunion of past Ravens at Castle Evermore. There was a scrimmage we played for fun to test the skills of our current team against the past Ravens. I was impressed by Nathaniel’s improvements. I wanted to share with him my dreams of Court and I was ecstatic when he said yes.”_

“Lies,” the siblings utter in unison, finally taking their gaze off Neil when they moved onto another player.

Thankfully, they remain silent about the interview until the commercial break. As soon as an advertisement for a whitening toothpaste started to play, the Ravens begin to chatter.

“I didn’t expect anything less of our dear captain,” Grant bitterly remarks, having been the last one who was given backhanded ‘compliments’ before the break, “It feels as if he spoke more affectionately of the Foxes than he did of us.”

“Well, one thing for certain,” Jakob pipes up, his Russian accent thicker from sleep deprivation. He turns his head to look at Nathaniel, his mismatched eyes hollow and cold, “he couldn’t stop gushing about you, Little One.”

Nathaniel twitches, "Don't call me that."

“Him and that blond host,” Vijay affirms, “In my family, you have to earn your praise through hard work and skill, not blowjobs and eyelash flutters.” Nathaniel tenses once again, his fists clenched and knuckles white.

“Don’t be absurd,” Beatrice chides with a flick of her hair over her shoulder, “There’s a certain skill needed for a good blowjob. Nathaniel is too much of a prude to actually have any talent there, right?”

“Oh you would know, wouldn’t you?” Nathaniel snarks, “I’m sure you had plenty of time to practice in that shithole of a neighborhood you called home before joining us. What was it they called you? BJ Beatrice? Bet you were a headliner at the clubs.”

“Quiet, Bea,” Julia silences her before she can even speak, “you deserved that.”

“It’s pathetic to see Riko like this,” Javier starts once again, “pining after a murderer’s son.”

“As if your parentage is any better,” Gabriela defends, “Would you moms be considered ‘Drug Ladies’ instead of ‘Drug Lords?’”

“They are skilled women. They don’t need to dirty their hands with blood.”

“I don’t think they can,” Gabriela smirks, “then again, you’re right. They don’t have to. It’s just as Beatrice said: ‘there’s a certain skill required for a good blow job.’”

“ _Puta!_ ”

“You couldn’t afford me!”

“Okay, enough.” Luke, ever the amateur mediator, steps in, “I highly doubt your parents are any better than Javier’s, Gabriela, so just knock it off. And you, Beatrice - seriously? You’re gonna attack Nathaniel over Riko’s crush that he had nothing to do with? You act as if he’s seducing the guy and then stringing him along-”

“Isn’t he?” Jakob quirks an eyebrow, “For past 5 years I have been here, Riko always lusted after the Little Butcher.”

“I said don’t call me that-”

“And what does he do, huh? He baits with sweet words and demure looks. We’ve all seen him exchange multiple touches and embraces with the captain; he doesn’t want to commit.”

“I can’t believe this,” Jean hisses, a vein popping up on his forehead from the effort he puts into staying seated. “You disgusting Russian pig! Clearly what’s happening before your ignorant eyes must be lost in translation!”

“Jean, enough-”

“Doesn’t want to commit? Of course he doesn’t want to commit, his life is over the second he does! Do you honestly think a possessive bastard like Riko would let Nathaniel leave his sight? You act as if Nathaniel buys himself protection and reprieve from his abuse with whispers and caresses, but he does that all for you! You selfish imbeciles, _all of you_!” he gestures to the entire team.

“Do you know how many times he’s gone out of his way to lighten you load? To ease up on your punishments? Surely you’re not blind to these incidents- I know you’re not! Just as I know you’re all fully aware of the severity of his own punishments, because - unlike the anger he takes out on us - his rage is fueled by jealousy and obsession! Nathaniel is walking on broken glass whenever Riko is here - if he stumbles then he bleeds!”

“Jean, it’s okay,” Luke says calmly, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender, “Jakob didn’t realize this. We all know about Riko and Nathaniel, and we’re all grateful for what he’s done-”

“Little One hasn’t done anything! A main source of his frustration stems from you! From your rejection and teasing! If you really do care like the Frenchman implies, say yes and put us all out of misery!”

“I ‘don’t care?’ Clearly, you ‘don’t care’ about me! None of you do!” Nathaniel snarls through his teeth, “Even knowing why I can’t and won’t be with him, you all still-”

“Ever heard of ‘propinquity’?” Beck starts timidly, his interruption catching the group off guard, “In social psychology, it’s a factor in attraction that refers to physical or psychological proximity between people. Basically, the more you’re around someone, the more likely you’ll grow to like them. Since you and Riko have been around each other for so long-”

“à l'exclusion de ces trois années-”

“Shut it, Jean.”

“-that it might have been a factor in his interest in you. It might work both ways is all I’m saying.”

Nathaniel is in shock with disbelief, “are you telling me to say yes? That I'll learn to like him? Do you even... _understand_ what you’re asking me to do?” he turns his attention to the rest of the Ravens, some of them avoiding eye contact. “Do any of you?”

Beck is red in the face, heated with shame and embarrassment. Jakob is the first to speak up.

“We know what will happen if you reject him, both to you...and to us.” He starts gently, “We’re asking you to pick the lesser of the two evils. For your own sake.”

Nathaniel watches in silence as the Ravens subtly share their agreement with his statement, conveyed through their eyes and fidgets. He feels sick to his stomach, a headache throbs behind his eye. He exhales deeply and shakes his head, a smirk to show the disgust and incredulity on his face.

“You’re all selfish.”

There’s an emotion in Jakob’s eyes, but Nathaniel is too afraid to put a name to it, “Are we?”

The TV chimes with the return of the program. The intro plays out before revealing the two hosts and their Raven guest.

“ _And we’re back! Riko Moriyama is here with us today; he just gave us an update on the new Raven line-up, as well as a break down on a couple of his newer players, including Beck De Leon and Nathaniel Josten. To watch the clips in case you’ve missed them, check out our website under the ‘Exy’ tag. Again, Riko, thank you for taking a break from Exy to talk about Exy.”_

 _“My pleasure, David,”_  he laughs, “ _it’s really no trouble at all.”_

 _“Tell us a little bit about you, Riko_ ,” Natasha interjects, a kind smile lighting up her features, “ _how have you been? Is there anything you’re doing when you’re not practicing?”_

Riko laughs louder than before, _“Oh, gosh, I’m rarely ever asked questions like that when I’m on these types of shows! How strange.”_

_“We just want to know how everything is going! Enough talking about your team, let’s talk about you.”_

_“Ah, well...classes have just started, and they’re going well,”_ he begins hesitantly, as if he’s struggling to come up with answers. All lies _._

_“What’s your Major?”_

_“I am undecided as of right now. I’ve been so focused on Exy and making it to US Court that I rarely have time to think of life beyond the game. I’ve been leaning towards business and finance, but we’ll see.”_

_“How about your love life? Anyone special catch your eye?”_ Something flickers in his expression that makes Nathaniel and Jean tense. The correct answer is ‘no.’ The correct answer is a redirect to Exy. The correct answer makes the team and Riko the focus of the conversation.

The correct answer is not the affirmative Riko responds with.

“ _There is, actually, someone I’ve been...I don’t know, ‘pursuing’ for a while? Is that a good word for it?”_

Neil wants to vomit.

 _“Oh, Riko!”_ Natasha gasps with delight, David grinning like a lunatic beside her, “ _You have to tell us all about it!”_

_“No, no, it’s nothing official. I haven’t gotten a straight answer yet.”_

_“How long have you sought this person?”_ David inquires, _“Can you tell us who?”_

 _“No, I won’t betray their anonymity,”_ Riko shakes his head. Neil releases a sigh of relief through his nose.

 _“How gentlemanly of you,”_ Natasha coos, _“Although it couldn’t hurt. Maybe get some outside help from fans?”_

 _“That’s a bloodbath waiting to happen,”_ Riko laughs, _“Terrible idea. They know about my feelings and intentions. I don’t need help expressing that.”_ he sighs wistfully, _“although bigger and grander gestures might help. All I want is an answer.”_

 _“You just point me in the right direction and I will get them to say ‘yes’ myself!”_ Natasha defends, _“Are they watching the show right now?”_

_“Most likely, yes.”_

_“Now, you listen to me!”_ David turns to look directly into the camera lens, Natasha cackling next to him as Riko hides his smile behind his hand. Neil feels a cold sweat on the back of his neck, Jean’s hand firm and tight around his wrist _, “You have a very nice young man here - very talented and charming - and you haven’t agreed to a date yet? What’s wrong with you?! You better snatch him up before someone else does! Then you’ll be sorry!”_

 _“Give him a chance, you won’t regret it!”_ Natasha calls in from the side. Riko is shaking his head affectionately, as if witnessing the antics of a young child.

“ _We hope that helps.”_

_“Thank you, I appreciate it.”_

_“Now, since you’re so tight lipped about this mystery crush, tell us more about living with your teammates and school.”_

Neil tunes out the rest of the segment. He is hyper aware of the eyes on him, of the thoughts of his teammates, of Jean’s hand on his wrist.

He stares blankly at the screen, paying no attention to the flashing lights and images. His headache grows worse. His legs are weak. He can’t move, or breathe, or think - the only thoughts in his head are the words of his teammates and the show hosts repeating over and over again - yelling at him to give Riko a chance - to say yes, say yes, _say yes_ -

The comforting hand on his wrist is suddenly too tight. He’s not okay anymore, not in the slightest. He can’t be here, he can’t be underground where there’s too many people, not enough air, not enough space, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, where the echoes are too loud and the rooms too quiet, too many eyes on him, too many thoughts about him in their heads- he knows _he knows_ \- he has to leave.

He stands abruptly before the segment is over, ripping himself away from Jean. His partner is watching him with concern strung on his eyes and heavy on his brow.

“Are you okay?” He asks in French, reaching out to touch him. Neil flinches when his fingertips make contact and he runs.

He dashes out of the lobby and up the stairs. He keeps running and doesn’t stop until he’s on the court. From there, he starts running laps around the edge, sprinting as fast as he can and pushing his body to its limit. It doesn’t help, he still feels too enclosed, too trapped. He runs for the exit, coming to a stop right before the door.

He’s breathing heavily, staring up at the glowing red ‘exit’ sign and resting his hands on the metal push bar. He can’t leave, he knows what will happen to himself - to Jean - of he does. He wouldn’t only be breaking Riko’s rules, but the Masters as well. He’s worked hard enough to avoid being in the same room as that man, avoided giving him a reason to speak with him, and he wasn’t going to slip up now.

Instead, Neil panted, trying to teach himself how to breathe again like he did every morning. He couldn’t leave, he knew that. But this was an exit door, light from the outside seeping in through the cracks. He lifted a hand up against the solid metal, almost believing that he could feel the sun’s heat through the 2 inches of steel. With his other hand, he lightly pushed against the push bar until it gave way. He didn’t open the door, not completely; he only unlocked it.

He couldn’t leave, Neil knew that, but this was an option. This was a way out of the Nest, the court, Castle Evermore and Edgar Allan University. This was just a metal door, only a couple of inches thick, unlocked, between himself and the outside. This was an exit.

He almost believed it for a second, until his phone rang.

He froze for a moment, a cold jolt running down his spine. After the 5th ring, he quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone, glancing at the screen briefly to see who it was before picking up.

“Riko.”

 _“Nathaniel, about time,”_ came the lazy drawl from the other end, _“For a second I thought you weren’t going to answer.”_ There’s a warning in his tone.

“I’m sorry,” he says absently, eyes returning to the exit sign. Whatever magic that had happened to make him feel better was gone now.

“ _Yeah, sure. You need to take your phone off ‘vibrate.’ Anyway, did you watch the show.”_

Neil stiffens. “Yes.” he takes a step away from the door, as if Riko would be able to tell where he was if he stayed a second longer.

“ _I’m not going to do another segment with these people again. ‘_ _Arguably_ _the best striker in Class I Exy?’ Are you kidding me? How dare they!_ ” Neil flinches at the venom in his tone and hesitantly turns away from the door. He slowly starts his walk back to the Nest. “ _There’s no argument there. I was interviewed by simpletons._ ”

“I think I remember him saying that,” Neil mumbles. Riko releases a frustrated sigh.

“ _And then they were so hung up on the line-up; I’m 90% positive that they only asked me questions about Beck so that they could name drop that Minyard bastard. Vultures looking to feed off drama. I’m positive that’s why they asked me questions about you and Luke and the other members, so that the transition would be subtle enough for them to do that without it being awkward. Don’t get me wrong, I could talk about you for hours, no problem, but the other players-_ ” he ends his sentiment with a disgusted grunt.

“Hey…”

“ _Hm?_ ” the Raven captain sounds completely unaffected by Neil’s hesitance.

“What you said about waiting for an answer,” Neil stops and sits in a seat in the stadium, bringing his knees up to his chest to make himself smaller, “Won’t the Master be angry?”

“ _No, he won’t. As long as the identity of whoever I’m referring to doesn’t get leaked, then he’s fine. I wonder, though, if you know who I was talking about.”_ The warning is back in his tone. Neil grinds his teeth.

“Riko,” he gulps, “I need more time.”

There’s a scoff on the other end of the line, _“‘More time.’ You’ve been given plenty of time- years, even. I don’t understand it; why are you acting this way? You like me, I like you, the answer should have been ‘yes’ a long time ago.”_

“You know I-”

“ _I made how I feel very clear from the beginning, and in response you asked for some time. Since then, you’ve given me enough smiles and gestures that I know you feel the same way- I’m not oblivious, you know that!”_

Neil has a white knuckled grip on his phone. Riko sighs heavily on the other end. _“I know...I know I’ve been harsh. To you and to the team. I’m just...so...frustrated with waiting. The thought of you taking advantage of how I feel just...I see red._

 _“I know, I scare you; but even after all of the shit I put you through - I put everyone through - you still give me... that look and those touches.”_ Neil covers his mouth, fearing that bile might escape. _“...Fine. you can have more time, but you_ _have_ _to give me an answer- you know you do. This hard-to-get act is old and I’m over it. Stop. Testing. Me.”_

“Thank you.”

The call disconnects. Neil is about to put the phone away when the device chimes with a message he received earlier during his laps.

     **A:** _breathe_

He exhales the breath he didn’t know he was holding and drops his phone.

Jean finds him an hour later, asleep and curled up into a tight ball. He doesn’t comment on his red eyes, and Neil is grateful for his feigned ignorance.

 

* * *

 

 

“ _There is, actually, someone I’ve been...I don’t know, ‘pursuing’ for a while? Is that a good word for it?”_

Kevin shoots up from his seat and storms towards the kitchen.

_“Oh, Riko! You have to tell us all about it!”_

He practically rips the refrigerator door open and pulls out a bottle of vodka.

_“No, no, it’s nothing official. I haven’t gotten a straight answer yet.”_

The tension eases out of his shoulders as he unscrews the bottle cap.

Andrew is watching from the bean bag chair. Nicky’s at the library and Aaron’s in class, leaving Kevin and Andrew alone in their dorm suite. Kevin had been flipping through the sports channels when Riko’s interview came on. He had just started comparing Andrew to their own goalkeeper, Beck, and he didn’t bother to hide his amusement.

Now, though, Andrew remains apathetic as he stares at the screen. This blushing demeanor Riko has on is gross, but he doesn’t care enough to comment on it. The same can not be said for Kevin.

“I’m gonna be sick,” he sputters from the kitchen after chugging a mouth full of alcohol.  

“I feel sick just watching you.” Kevin redirects his glare towards Andrew, watching him quietly for a moment.

“Have you taken your meds yet?”

“Yes, mom,” he grins unpleasantly. Kevin watches him a second longer before the TV recaptures his attention.

 _“Now, you listen to me!”_ The blond show host turns to the camera and points, as if he were scolding a child. The woman next to him laughs loudly and claps her hands while Riko hides his smile behind his hand, feigning embarrassment _. “You have a very nice young man here - very talented and charming - and you haven’t agreed to a date yet? What’s wrong with you?! You better snatch him up before someone else does! Then you’ll be sorry!”_

_“Give him a chance, you won’t regret it!”_

“Pandering amateurs,” Kevin hisses, putting on a brave face against Riko’s LED display, “pitiful attempts to appease the ‘raven king’ for more views. Disgusting.”

“What’s this? Is that...is that a backbone growing down your spine?” Andrew gasps with amazement, “I would have never thought-!”

“Enough.”

“I can think of plenty of other things his backliner would rather do than date his abuser,” the blond comments dismissively. Kevin practically throws himself onto the couch and grabs the remote.

“Not how I would word it, but you sound awfully confident about that.” It takes every ounce of self control to not punch Kevin in the mouth. One would think, especially from an outside perspective, it would be common sense to not want to date your abuser. Andrew isn't ignorant of Neil's pressure, but Kevin’s careless comment speaks volumes of his (lack of) understanding of the situation.

“We have a lot more in common than you’d think,” he answers cryptically. Kevin takes another swig from the bottle and watches Andrew.

“Have you been talking to him?” He sits up straighter. “How?”

“Why do you need to know?” He counters back. “You jealous?”

“How long?”

“Long enough.”

“Andrew.”

“Kevin.” The striker huffs with annoyance and rubs his eyes.

“Are you texting him?”

“We communicate via carrier pigeon,” Kevin drinks in response to his answer, widening Andrew’s grin.

“Jean told me he changed his number.”

“Wait,” the blond sings, “wait, now wait a second. Jean Valjean, the same Frenchman on the Edgar Allan Ravens, talks to you about Neil?” he tsks, “I thought he - oh, I don’t know - hated your guts.”

“It was an act for Riko.”

“How convincing! You should learn to lie from him.”

Kevin was quiet for a moment before mumbling, “he only told me recently.”

“Oh, and of course you decide to trust him,” Andrew slow claps, “Suicidal wretch.”

“The Ravens have been talking about convincing Neil to accept Riko’s offer.”

“Don’t you mean, ‘his heart?’ Look at him,” he gestures to the TV, “does that not look like a man pining after the affections of a young, naive boy?”

“I hate dealing with you when you’re high,”

“I hate you, period.” He counters, standing up and approaching the window. He cracks it open a bit and smoothly slides his lighter and cigarettes out of his pocket. He pulls one from the pack and lights it up, inhaling deeply and letting the smoke leak out of his nostrils. “I also can’t stand how big of an idiot you can get. Your single-minded exy brain needs to gain some fucking perspective.”

“Excuse me?”

“Neil’s not going to say ‘yes.’” He takes his phone out and sends off a quick, single-word message 

“With the right incentive, Riko can make anyone do anything, including Neil.”

“And here I was about to mark today’s date on my calendar,” Kevin’s scowl deepens as Andrew returns the look with a smile, “Was your backbone too brittle? Switch out the vodka for some milk, Day.”

“He will win, Andrew, he always does. One learns that early on in the Nest; it’s just a matter of how and when - two very important factors when it comes to looking after yourself and your partner. He doesn’t have you, Andrew.”

“He doesn’t need me, Kevin.” The silent ‘ _not yet_ ’ is carried in the smoke, settling in the air between them. “He’s small and suicidal, but one can hope that he’s not _completely_ hopeless.”

“He lost the day I left.”

“What an arrogant thing to say.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Nicky’s key in the lock. Their attention is redirected to the door just as it opens, revealing Andrew's cousin looking tired and hungry, a bulging book bag hanging off of his shoulder.

“Sounds like Allison and Seth are pre-gaming in the girls’ room,” he comments tiredly, “Are we still going to Columbia tonight? I would prefer if we didn’t, I’m not feeling too good and Aaron said he’s got a test Monday.”

“Lies.” Andrew accuses.

“Okay, yeah, I don’t know what’s going on with him,” Nicky admits, kicking the door shut behind him after he removes his shoes. His bag falls to the floor and he tiredly stumbles to the fridge. “But this is Aaron we’re talking about. He’s probably got some important shit due over the weekend, what with all the introductory medical classes he’s taking.”

“My mood to go out was killed by a smug Asian and his lackey.” The glare Kevin sends him at the implication would have incinerated anyone else. Instead, it amuses the hell out of Andrew.

“Awesome~,” Nicky closes the refrigerator and grabs a bag of chips from the counter before heading to his room, “I’m napping. Do not disturb, beware of dog, enter at own risk-” he cuts himself off when the door closes, his voice coming through the wood muffled for a few seconds more before silence settles over the two boys.

Andrew decides he’s had enough of Kevin’s tattooed mug for the rest of the  afternoon and stabs out his cigarette on the windowsill.

“If you’re so convinced that what you said is true,” he continues from earlier as he walks towards the front door, “then finish drinking your liquid courage. You’ll need it for the nightmares your guilt will make you face tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to clarify that the 'touches' Riko talks about are little things like Neil running his fingers through his hair or hugging him or checking out a possible injury from a check etc. nothing sexual.  
> I also made a reference to my favorite book, süskind's 'Perfume; story of a murderer.' I highly recommend it :3 if anyone can spot it, kudos to you!\  
> Update, i changed that reference tp jean valjean because the original reference was a mouthful tbh


	7. Change of Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psssst!  
> Hey!  
> Hey!  
> My summer job is over :3  
> Sorry for butchering the characters

Nathaniel doesn't learn about what happened between Jean and the Ravens during his panic attack until two days pass. There's an incident during practice: Javier keeps aiming for Jean’s shins and shoulders whenever he clears the ball from goal, taking particular care to put all of his strength behind each throw.

It's when Grant checks Jean _hard_ against the plexiglass that Nathaniel loses his patience.

“‘The hell is going on?!” He hisses once there's a break called. The rest of the Ravens are making their way off of the court, casting the two dirty glances while they stay near their goal.

Jean sighs heavily, his shoulders slumping. Nathaniel can see exhaustion weighing him down like chains and shackles. “They're just acting like children,” he mutters dismissively in French, “They're being petulant.”

“That doesn't answer my question,” Nathaniel frowns, “I don't remember you saying anything to them that would cause a problem.”

“You weren't there.”

He snorts, shifting his racket to his other hand, “I'm _always_ there.”

“Not this time,” It clicks for Nathaniel what exactly he's referencing. He tenses and clenches his jaw.

“What did you tell them?” He demands quietly. Jean isn't threatened by his anger. If anything, he's annoyed by Nathaniel’s display and isn't bothering to hide it.

“I pulled rank.”

“Damnit Jean!” He looks towards the team, noticing how the majority is choosing to ignore them while a select few - Javier, Daniel, Jakob, and Grant - are watching them with scorn in their eyes. “What else did you tell them?”

“I gave them a choice,” Jean answers cryptically, “it wasn't what they wanted to hear.”

“You better start getting specific soon or I swear to God-”

“Just stay out of this.”

“How can I when it obviously concerns me?” he huffs, “Tell me what you said.”

“I can’t,” Nathaniel shoves him hard out of impulse. Jean manages to stop himself with his forearm against the plexiglass. The look he gives Nathaniel isn’t one his teammate has seen in a long time, not since he returned to the Nest from his first attempt at running away.  

“Have you forgotten your place, Nathaniel?”

“As if that bullshit would work on me, you know better!” he seethes, absolutely livid, “My success is your success; your failures are my failures, _ma moitié._ I deserve to know what you said that screwed us both over!”

“I betrayed their trust, just as they betrayed yours,” Jean snarls in response, “There. Are you happy now?”

Confusion settles over Nathaniel only for a moment before realization strikes. It feels weighted, like a racket to the face.

Secrets aren’t allowed. The Master and Riko had to know everything - _would_ eventually know everything. Secrets are rare, soft things held close to the chest like a blanket. The Ravens keep them close, but, over time, find themselves bartering away scraps for companionship. A comfort comes in sharing the burden, knowing that  there’s a collective ‘we’ more complex than the plural ‘you’ used by Riko and the Master.

Nathaniel still remembers telling Beatrice about his mother as he tended to her wounds; Riko had been busy ‘dealing’ with Vijay that night, leaving no one else to help her. In return, she revealed that her brother was actually her son. A fraternity formed in a black room on a bloody mattress.

The trust is already fragile, but if _Jean_ had gone and shattered it...

“Jean...Tell me you didn’t-” he struggles to get the words out, an icy hot fury building in his chest and throat.

“Of course I didn’t.” He scoffs, “I would never. All I did was suggest the chance of Riko hearing rumors about his team and the possible consequences if he were to dig deeper.”

“How dare you…” He starts, having to stop himself from shouting before he continues much quieter, “How dare you even think of that? It's vile; They are our teammates - our _friends_ \- and for you to betray their trust and threaten them-”

“They are _not_ my friends,” Jean is quick to correct him, “They mean _nothing_ to me. They are a necessary nuisance we must deal with as part of the arrangement our families agreed to when _they  s_ _old us._ They are our teammates, but that doesn’t mean I have to like them. The expectation is that we work well together, and I’m merely doing my job.”

“You can’t mean that,” Nathaniel hisses, hiding his shock behind anger.

“You were gone for years, ‘Josten’,” Jean reminds him, “You’ve forgotten what it means to be a Raven. Everyone here is only concerned with themselves. Friendships aren’t made, only alliances. I made a power play that reminded them of who’s in charge when Riko isn’t here.”

“But you’re not. If Riko finds out-”

“They don’t know that. Riko won’t find out, those children are too afraid to tell him,” Nathaniel bites his lip in an attempt to calm down. He feels the beginnings of a headache from how stressed and angry Jean has made him. This is so out of character for the man, Nathaniel never thought he could do - _would_ do - something like this.

“Why are you doing this?”

“You’re my friend, Neil,” Jean’s expression does a gradual change from irritation to confusion. After a moment of silence between them, he continues, “You’re my brother.”

“Don’t avoid the question with flattery,” he defaults to hostility. As soon as the words leave his mouth, the Frenchman’s expression darkens.

“I didn’t want you to know. They’ve been talking to Riko; whenever they incur his wrath, they try to distract him with your name,” he fumes, “They tell him lies of how you watch him at practice and during games, or how you confide in them your feelings for our captain. They shit on your for leading him on when they’re the ones causing all of the damage.”

Nathaniel feels the color drain from his face, “You’re lying.”

“After that conversation we had a couple of days ago, do you _really_ think it’s so far-fetched?”

He glances over to the Ravens on the side lines, his expression carefully blank as he studies their faces and glares. Most have moved on to talking among themselves, except for Jakob. He’s still watching Nathaniel and Jean have their conversation. He smiles darkly, lifting a hand to wave.

“How do you know?”

“Riko tells me. I’ve also overheard a couple of conversations in the locker rooms myself. Usually when you’re showering and I’m searching for our gear,” Nathaniel looks away and redirects his attention back to Jean. His friend is watching his expression carefully with a softer look in his eyes. Nathaniel doesn’t know what to think.

“I’ve never liked Jakob much, anyway,” He manages to mutter weakly. Jean steps a little closer to him, his own gaze now fixed on the Russian.

“Jealousy is an ugly thing.”

“Jealousy?” Nathaniel snorts, “He can have Riko; I don’t want him,” There’s a message in the look Jean sends him. He’s about to speak up when the whistle blows from the sidelines.

“Shit,” He curses in French, grabbing Neil by the upper arm and dragging him forward, “If we’re quick, we might be able to get some water before-”

“Practice is over,” Beck calls to them from the entrance to the court, “Leave the balls and cones. Nathaniel, run some laps around the court. Jean can leave.”

The pair frown with confusion at the order, “What? Who said-”

“I did,” Their attention is snatched up by Riko sitting in the bleachers. He has a few folders next to him, talking to the boys without looking away from the file in his hands, “Leave, Jean. Nathaniel, go run some laps.”

Nathaniel knows better than to ask how many. Instead, he gingerly places his helmet and racket on the ground and heads to the edge of the court. From his peripheral, he can see Jean glance over at him before walking off, following the rest of the team down the tunnel into the locker rooms.

For 15 minutes, Nathaniel is running. He keeps his pace consistent so as not to tire out quickly as Riko remains at his perch in the bleachers. The team captain reads through 8 files before he neatens the stack and picks them up. Nathaniel doesn’t look at him, but he can hear his footsteps as he walks down the stairs, hops over the barrier between the pathway to the tunnel and the bleachers, and places the stack on the home bench.

He enters the court, but Nathaniel keeps running. He hasn’t been given permission to stop yet. In the corner of his eye, he sees Riko gathering cones and placing them 3 feet away from each other. Once he’s done, he grabs the handle of the bucket of balls Beck gathered before the break and carries it over to where Nathaniel left his helmet and racket.

He whistles, like an owner calling his dog, to get Nathaniel’s attention.

“Come.” He sets the bucket down and pulls his phone out, typing on the keys at a rapid pace. Nathaniel slows and stops with his hands on his knees. He’s winded from the amount of time he spent jogging, finally directly looking at Riko since he stepped onto the court.

The young Moriyama is dressed in his travel clothes. Nathaniel makes the assumption that he’s recently arrived from the airport and wonders what kept him away for so long. Usually, these interview trips don’t last very long, but Riko had been gone for 2 days. It’s not unusual for him to come and go without explanation, but Nathaniel is sure the folders he was reading through earlier were related in some way.

Riko looks up and snaps his fingers twice, pointing down at the racket with irritation heavy on his brow, “Did I stutter?”

Nathaniel straightens up and jogs over. He grabs the racket and the helmet, only to have the headgear pulled out of his hand by the other man. Nathaniel doesn’t make a comment, instead choosing to scoop a ball out of the bucket and face the line of cones.

Riko carelessly drops the helmet and holds the phone to his ear. “Three, seven, nine, four, six, two, one,” he says, looking at the cones. Nathaniel hesitates only to count from left to right before firing off shots. The rebounds are perfect, targeting the cones with precision only achievable by Ravens. When cones five, eight, and ten are the only ones standing, Riko tells him to reset.

As he’s gathering the balls and returning the cones to their original places, Riko starts to speak in Japanese. The conversation is brief, clearly not meant for Nathaniel’s ears by way of the language change. However, Riko doesn’t know Nathaniel is fluent in Japanese - a skill acquired from his three years on the run, another secret to keep. He moves a little slower to eavesdrop.

_“I hope you are doing well, sir.”_

_“Yes, I landed an hour ago. I’ve been in Castle Evermore for about half an hour.”_

_“I reviewed the candidates. Of the 15, there are only 7 I find satisfactory. The rest aren’t suitable.”_

_“How soon can we get them?”_

_“And their transfers?”_

_“I see...we have time. We work well enough with the numbers we have now.”_

_“Excellent. I’ll have Chihiro make the arrangements. She’ll keep you updated.”_

_“I await your call, sir.”_

By the time Riko finishes, Nathaniel has approached him with the bucket in hand. He shoves the phone into his back pocket and redirects his gaze to the backliner. He studies his face carefully, appearing to be searching for something in his expression. Nathaniel’s poker face is locked into place; whatever Riko is looking for, he won’t find it.

Finally, after a long moment of silence, Riko crosses his arms and nods to the cones.

“Five, three, nine,” Nathaniel scoops a ball up and fires the shot, the rebounds quickly following one after another. As soon as the cones are down, Riko lists a new set of numbers.

Seven, ten, two.

Four, one, six, eight.

Reset.

Two, five, three.

Seven, ten, four.

Nine, eight, one, six.

Reset.

He makes Nathaniel do this until he’s on the brink of pulling a muscle in his shoulder. When he winces after a throw, Riko nods to himself and uncrosses his arms.

“Clean up and hit the lights,” he plucks a ball from the bucket, tossing it back and forth between his hands as he turns towards the court door, “Be quick about it. We need to talk.”

“I will,” Nathaniel acknowledges, apprehension forming a knot in his throat.

True to his word, he gathers the cones and balls quickly. With his gear in hand and the equipment in the other, he stops briefly in the tunnel to hit the lights before walking to the storage closet. Once the balls and cones are put away, he enters the men’s locker room with a cold sweat on the back of his neck.

Riko is stoically waiting for him, sitting on a bench as he throws the ball against the wall. It rebounds, hits the floor, and flies back into his waiting palm. The backliner makes a mental note of the blue files next to him. He sees the names on the top corners and Riko’s phone call instantly makes sense: new Ravens.

Riko doesn’t spare him a glance as he changes, nor when he enters the shower stalls. He’s still watching the ball bounce off the wall and floor when he reenters, only looking at Nathaniel when he buttons his pants.

“What did you want to talk about?” Nathaniel breaks the ice, permission granted through eye contact.

“New players,” he answers, the same scrutiny with which Riko watched him on the court with now back in his eyes, “Our numbers are not what they used to be and there are big shoes that need to be filled. We waited a little longer to select new Ravens so that we could accurately assess their skill levels.”

“Will the ERC allow late additions?” Riko is quiet for a moment, assessing Nathaniel before he continues.

“Of course they will. The season hasn’t started yet. Their names are already submitted and transfers in progress. They should be here sometime next week.”

“Will they give you enough time to condition them?”

“They already are,” Riko grins, “We recruited them into a special summer program. Some are fresh out of high school, others transfers from different colleges. I’ve been splitting my time between the Nest and the camp this summer to make sure they’re in the shape I need them to be in. Their enrollment into Edgar Allan hasn’t been made official until today. It’ll be fun to catch the press and this district off guard with the new recruits.”

Nathaniel buttons his shirt, “How many new members?”

“Seven.”

“Can I ask why you’re just now telling us about these new players?”

“No, I’m telling you. Not them,” he vaguely gestures towards the door, indicating the rest of the Ravens, “When they come, there’s going to be a reset in the pecking order. The team will be reevaluated and numbers assigned accordingly.”

He stiffens. “Waste of time. I won’t lose my place,” Nathaniel asserts, some aggression finding its way into his tone. After putting his racket into his locker he slams the door a little too hard. He’s caught off guard by his sudden face-to-face with Riko, who moved so silently that Nathaniel never noticed. This doesn’t sit well in his stomach.

“You sound awfully confident, but what about Jean?” He prods. There’s something unsettling in the way he’s watching Nathaniel now. The backliner has only seen this look whenever he messes up on a drill or on the court. Something shifted during their conversation, but he doesn’t know what, “I’m not too impressed with how he was beaten around during practice today. Sloppy.”

“The others were targeting him. There’s not much he can do when it’s one versus eight, it was clear to see-”

“Yes, it was,” Riko interrupts once again, eyes sparkling and grin borderline manic “I could tell. What has Jean done to piss off the rest of the team?” he tilts his head, “Will it piss me off, too? I’d hate to see him go down into the double digits over a misunderstanding. Afterall, teamwork is essential to Exy. What am I to do if the team won’t work with him?”

“You know how it is, Riko,” Nathaniel defends, forcing himself not to take a step back, “The season is about to start and everyone is agitated. It doesn’t help that Jean is channeling his inner-Kevin to make up for your absence.”

“No one’s positions are permanent, and you’ll all be reminded of that when the new players arrive. Make sure Jean knows that he can still be knocked down in the rankings, even with the ‘3’ on his face,” he warns in an attempt to be civil.

“I’ll tell him,” he agrees, his fists clenched at his side.

“Also,” Riko reminds him, “Kevin will never be able to play Exy as well as he did before the accident. There's no point in keeping a spot open for a cripple. Work hard and you’ll move up.”

“Such confidence you have in me, I didn’t think you cared.”

“Don’t give me a reason not to,” Riko reaches forward and cups his cheek. He gently rubs his thumb over the tattoo, seemingly overcome with veneration for the mark.

“How much longer until I get my answer?” He asks softly, his expression hardening when he makes eye contact with Nathaniel, “I’ve been very generous, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Just a little more time,” Nathaniel answers carefully. He sees the tension in his jaw, but Riko’s attempt to act like a gentleman overpowers his instinct to be a murderous asshole. He backs out of Nathaniel’s space. Breathing gets easier for the backliner.

“I need a new partner, Nathaniel,” he remarks as he leaves, gathering up the files on his way out, “It’s up to you to decide whether or not that partnership extends off of the court.”

Nathaniel scowls at his retreating figure, giving Riko a couple of minutes to get into the Nest before he leaves himself. After his conversation with Riko, he knows something isn’t right. The striker realized something during their talk; what it was, he can’t say for sure. It wasn’t the fact that Nathaniel despises him, he would have reacted more violently. A Raven hasn’t snitched about Jean’s bluff to Riko, either.

He exhales slowly and rubs his eyes. He will figure out what it is later. Right now, Riko’s warning all but promises that he and Jean aren’t going to remain paired on the team. With the way Jean is being treated by the others, Nathaniel can’t risk that happening - especially with new players being introduced into the Nest. New players that spent their entire summer doing God-knows-what to be conditioned for the team, for Riko’s reward-punishment system.

Out of frustration, he grabs the ball the captain abandoned on the bench and throws it as hard as he can against the wall. It bounces around for a moment, ricocheting around the room before coming to a stop between himself and the door. He stares at it blankly, wishing that a cigarette would materialize in its place before walking forward and grabbing the ball.

This just means he’ll have to put his plan in motion much sooner than he’d like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! My job is done! back to typing and Overwatch.  
> Things are gonna pick up briefly in the next two chapters, and then slow down again for a little bit, and then pick back up.  
> Thank you all so much for being patient! I also saw that a few of you included this fic on your recommended Andreil fic lists and OH MY GOD YOU'RE ALL TOO SWEET JUST STOP! STOP IT OK?! I'm flattered that you'd consider this fic as good as constellationqueen's, nekojita's, and a whole lot of other extremely talented writers' on this site!!  
> I apologize once again for butchering the characters. i used to talk to my sister about this fic and ask her questions and etc but she wants to focus on her Stucky ff and other stuffs. so no beta, sorry. this is kind of a shitty chapter too, i'm so sorry  
> I've got the beginning of the next chapter already typed so HOPEFULLY i'll get some stuff posted soon. I'm currently moving out of my apartment so I've been distracted with packing and cleaning and passive aggressive roommates that i despise. protip - don't move in wit a bitch you've only know for 2 months (and who you DIDN'T EVEN LIKE IN THE FIRST PLACE)  
> The french ma moitie means "My other half" - Neil literally means it as his other half since they're a pair


	8. Overdose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: violence, blood, rapey vibes, knives, mentions of drug overdoses. I'll change the tags to reflect this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a longer chapter to make up for my hiatus  
> trigger warnings listed above. if you want, ask me in the comments or on tumblr (fennec-faux) and i'll tell you what happened  
> I'm sorry for butchering the characters (both literally and metaphorically)

It’s been a week since Riko’s Interview. Jean and Nathaniel are leaving the weight room when Javier and Luke approach them.

“Riko wants to see you,” Javier spits out, glaring at Jean. Luke remains quiet next to him, looking anxiously between the two players.

Nathaniel rolls his eyes, “I wonder what we've done to fuck up now.”

They follow the two down the hallway, the volume of the TV’s in the dens behind them turned up much louder than normal.

“Turn it down!” Jean shouts behind him after a particularly obnoxious vacuum commercial overlaps with the sounds of an audience laughing. He shakes his head and scratches his cheek.

“Fucking idiots, no wonder they don’t follow directions on the court; they can’t hear,” he inevitably mumbles in French. Nathaniel swats his back with a towel, a pathetic attempt at lightening the mood. When they reach the split between the two dormitories, Javier and Luke merge off to the Red Hall.

Nathaniel and Jean are about to break away and head into Black when Javier calls them over, “No, down here.”

The two frown. “You said Riko wanted to see us?” Nathaniel asks for confirmation.

Javier nods, “Yeah. This way.”

“He’s never in the Red Hall,” Jean points out, just as suspicious as Nathaniel.

“He is today. Don’t question it, I’m just doing as I’m told,” Javier’s reply is cold, Luke stiff beside him. Nathaniel’s eyes flicker between the two, his gaze lingering on the latter before he and Jean share a look. They both step away with uncertainty from the Black Hall’s entrance and resume their walk behind the other two.

“This is odd,” Jean comments in French. Nathaniel nods in agreement, his grip on his towel tightening ever so slightly.

As they pass the rooms, none of them are occupied. The Ravens were probably in the TV dens, which would explain why the volume was turned up so loud. They wouldn’t want to hear anything going on back here. Nathaniel wonders what it is that they could have done recently to-

He’s not expecting the arm that comes flying out from the left. It connects with his temple and he’s knocked into Jean. The backliner catches him, only to be knocked off balance by another attacker to his right. Nathaniel hits the floor hard, his fight-or-flight instincts screaming at him to get up while his vision blurs and sways. He’s on his knees when his arm is grabbed and twisted behind his back. He curses and does his best to fight back, only to have another spike of pain come shooting through his joints and wrist when he struggles. It’s the voice in his ear that stops his flailing.

“That’s enough, Little Butcher.”

His head immediately whips around to get a look at his captor. When his vision finally focuses, he sees Jakob’s mismatched eyes boring back into his, a sinister intent painted in blue and green.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” he snarls, gritting his teeth against the throbbing in his head. He kicks at his legs, only to be rewarded with his body slamming into the wall. Jakob lays all of his weight against him, effectively knocking the wind from his lungs and pinning him down.

“You’re not in a position to be asking questions,” he replies calmly, his breath hot against his ear. The proximity between them makes Nathaniel want to lash out more, but he knows better than to fight against a futile situation. Jakob easily has over 100 pounds on him.

Laughter and a groan catches his attention. He remembers they’re not the only ones in the hallway, and when he looks he sees Grant and Daniel dragging a furious Jean into one of the available rooms where other Ravens are waiting.

“You fucking idiots!” Nathaniel yells, struggling once again in a vain attempt to get to Jean, “Let me go, you Russian pig! I’ll stab you, I fucking swear!”

“The mouth on you!” Jakob’s grin is as audible as the sound of metal clinking together. Nathaniel’s other hand is dragged behind his back and handcuffs are slapped on his wrists. He thrashes around to make it harder for Jakob, but the Russian succeeds in getting them on.

Once his hands are locked behind his back, Jakob moves so that he’s only holding the chains that connect the cuffs together and steps away from Nathaniel. He spins them around so that he’s forced to watch the group and kicks his legs out, bringing him to his knees.

Aside from Daniel, Jakob, and Grant, it appears that Beatrice, Vijay, Javier, Luke, and Julia are all in on the attack. Riko, Gabriela, and Beck are nowhere to be seen.

“That’s a good look on you,” Nathaniel sees red when Beatrice winks at him.

“How stupid are you?!” he demands, wincing when Grant and Daniel throw Jean roughly onto the ground. Daniel stomps on his back hard, a gasp clawing out of Jean’s throat at the pressure and pain. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?!”

“We don’t appreciate how Jean has been treating us, lately,” Vijay answers with his arms crossed. Daniel delivers a kick to his ribs, earning another pained grunt from the backliner. Nathaniel surges forward, only to be yanked back by Jakob.

“Stay,” he hisses, pulling his arms up higher at an awkward angle.

“We don’t know what’s crawled up his ass,” Grant comments as Daniel continues to rain kicks and stomps at random areas of his body, Jean trying his best to keep his grunts to a minimum, “but we don’t appreciate being threatened.

“We had a chat with Riko and he agrees.” Nathaniel's eyes widen slightly, “Said we can put him back in line as long as we don’t cripple him. With a diverse group like us, we have plenty of ways to accomplish that.”

“It was a dumb move,” Julia adds, “especially when Jean chose to threaten a group like us. Just sit quietly or you’re next.”

Nathaniel watches them, his heart racing as he tries to come up with a plan.

He still has his knife. He moves it from his hip to his thigh when he works out; it’s foolish of the Ravens to think he doesn’t have one with him at all times. It’s within reach. He’s itching to grab it and use it on them but he can’t - not yet - not while Jakob is holding the chain. He could easily disarm the backliner, which won’t do him any good.

He first needs to get Jakob’s hands off of the handcuffs. There’s only one thing he can think of doing in this situation, and he knows it’ll make things worse before things get better, but he doesn’t have a whole lot of options. His arms may be incapacitated, but his mouth isn’t.

“‘A group like us’?” Nathaniel repeats with hysterical laughter, shaking his head, “It’s ‘dumb’ to threaten a group ‘like you’?” his tone clearly conveys how he doesn’t agree with them.

“Something funny, Nathaniel?” his outburst brings a temporary halt to the attack, catching them off guard.

“A ‘group like you’ is filled with nothing but wanna-bes and trash,” he glances briefly at Jean before refocusing his attention on Julia, “You and your brother worst of all. You act as if you’re dangerous but you’re actually spoiled brats. Even mommy and daddy didn’t want to keep you around; they had to fucking _pay_ the Moriyama’s to take you away!”

“You little shit!” Julia hisses, standing from her perch on the bed. Daniel shoves her back down before she can take a step, warning her with ‘not him.’

“And you, Vijay. Your family doesn’t even want to be in the same country as you!” Vijay’s jaw clenches and he spits something in Hindi, “You act as if you’re better than us, but it’s because you’re indistinguishable from the millions of other fucking people in India that you’re even here in the first place! You’re forced to make a name for yourself here because there’s no fucking hope for you in your motherland! Pathetic!” He retaliates by shoving Daniel to the side and kicking Jean onto his back, delivering a punch to a pressure point on his chest and dragging a scream from the backliner. Nathaniel’s glare hardens.

“Careful what you say, Nathaniel,” Beatrice warns with a grin, “or else Jean will suffer the consequences.” She taps her nail against the racket in her lap. He gives her an unimpressed look.

“Really? You’re trying to be scary?” he keeps his poker face locked in place when Vijay strikes another pressure point, “I’m offended. I refuse to socialize with you any further.”

Her face is red as she struggles to keep smiling. Jakob laughs loudly from behind him.

“Another, Nathaniel! Keep going!” he encourages. Nathaniel refuses to look at him. Instead, he glances over to where Javier and Luke are stationed against the wall, one scowling as the other shows his guilt on his face.

“I have no words for you two,” he snaps when they finally make eye contact. Luke immediately looks away while Javier remains unaffected.

“And you,” he looks to Grant, “are clearly no better than Riko if you’re resorting to his tactics.”

“You say that like I’m supposed to care,” Grant deadpans.

“I can’t wait for the guilt to eat you up later,” Nathaniel grins knowing full well that it’s Nathan’s face he’s wearing now, not his own, “You’re gonna pull some Lady MacBeth bullshit after all of this is over, washing your hands of blood that isn’t there. It’ll drive you mad and _I can’t fucking wait to see it!”_

“Stop,” Grant calmly tells Vijay. Daniel has to pull the man away from Jean’s nearly limp body when he doesn’t immediately respond, “Prop him up.”

Nathaniel is breathing heavy, smirk still plastered on as the two prop Jean against the wall. Grant grabs a cup of water and empties the contents on his face. He jolts and gasps, water and blood dribbling down his cheeks and chin. Beatrice scoots closer to him and grabs a chunk of hair, tilting his head back roughly so that he’s forced to look at Jakob and Nathaniel.

“We weren’t going to do this at all, but Jakob was persistent,” Grant informs them. The hairs on the back of Nathaniel’s neck stand on end and the man shifts behind him, “and Riko gave his consent as well. Trust us, Nathaniel, this will hurt Jean more than it hurts you.”

“You’re too good to me,” Jakob tells Grant right before he hauls Nathaniel to his feet, “I didn’t think you’d actually let me.”

“No!” Jean hisses when this happens, trying to move but failing. Jakob lets go of the chain and puts Nathaniel in a choke hold; he tries to contain his relief because _this is the opening he needs._

Nathaniel fights to get out of the hold, fully aware of how useless it is. In reality, it’s a distraction for him to dislocate his thumb. His gasp of pain is timed perfectly with the sharp yank Jakob does, lifting Nathaniel’s body to press against his.

“I’ll make it hurt,” he wheezes, his eyes locked on Jean. Vijay and Daniel  sit on either side of him while the girls stay seated on the bed, Javier and Luke still stationed against the wall. Their faces range from looks of amusement, apathy and guilt. His blood boils from having to wait, having to endure this disgusting man’s ministrations on his body while he waits for the moment to strike, “You know I can, Jean, I’ll make them all bleed for this idiocy.”

“Neil, stop!” Jean tries to warn, receiving a sharp elbow to the gut for his interruption.

“That’s it, keep talking,” Jakob antagonizes with a laugh, “Tell me more. What will you do to me?”

“You’re not worth it,” Nathaniel feels a hand move away from his head and slither town his neck and chest, “I won’t give you a quick death, but I won’t pay much attention to you. I’ll stab you and you’ll bleed out slowly in an alley somewhere, all by yourself.”

“That’s all?” the arm around his neck tightens slightly, the hand slipping under his shirt and rubbing against his scarred stomach. He feels nauseous.

“You’re just annoying. I don’t want to spend much time on you,” he coughs at the sudden pressure on his windpipe.

“Jakob, enough!” Jean is hit in the throat for his outburst.

“What exactly do I have to do to get your attention, Nathaniel?” he pouts, the arm around the backliner’s throat allowing him some slack to breathe, “You’re not exactly a roses-and-chocolate sort of boy. A part of me wishes you’d accept Riko so that I wouldn’t have to think about you, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to forget this moment.”

The comment Jean made a few days ago makes sense now. Nathaniel wants to throw up from how sick this is. “Trust me, you’ll regret this for the rest of your disgusting life.”

“Riko has the right idea, at least, when it comes to courting the son of a serial killer.”

“Invading my personal space one day and cutting me the next?” He snarks, suppressing a shudder when his hand traveled upward, “What can I say? He’s charming in a narcissistic sort of way.” He slips the hand with the dislocated thumb out of the cuff.

“He killed a man for you,” Jakob breathes against his neck. Nathaniel fails to keep the shock off of his face, “He did it today. That striker from the Foxes - Gordon? He was on his way to tell you when we caught up to him.”

“Liar.”

“You’ll hear it in the news soon enough.”

“If that’s the case, then do you really think doing this is a good idea?” he chokes out, “All I’d have to do is ask nicely and you’ll be next.”

“Grant and I told him everything; both Jean’s threat and your true feelings,” He admits, glancing over at Grant, “Right?”

“Yes,” He confirms, his eyes betraying his discomfort with the situation on his otherwise apathetic face. The adrenaline running through his body is enough to distract him from the fear that weighs heavily in his stomach for the moment, but it doesn’t change the fact that Riko knows _Riko knows-_

“Riko’s not too pleased with either of you right now. All the more reason to come to me,” Nathaniel tries to jerk away when he feels Jakob’s crotch press against his backside, making the man laugh. He moves so that he has both arms around Nathaniel’s chest and torso, freeing his neck from confinement.

“Fuck off.”

“I would kill a man for you,” he leans in close, his lips right at the shell of Nathaniel’s ear, “in fact, I’ll kill Kevin for you.”

Nathaniel moves quickly, bringing his head forward before smashing it against Jakob’s nose. He feels a burst of blood in his hair, but pays no mind to it as he shoulders the Russian away and grabs his knife with his uninjured hand. He spins around, slashing deep into Jakob’s wrist before kicking him in the kneecap and racing forward.

The others aren’t fast enough to get up, clearly not expecting the attack. He kicks Grant in the head and clenches the knife between his uninjured fingers, allowing him a free hand to rip the racket out of Beatrice’s lap. He hits her and Vijay in the same place as Grant and they crumple to the floor. Julia is up by then and about to launch herself at Nathaniel when Jean shoves her away. She tumbles and falls, and he nearly follows after her when Nathaniel grabs his upper arm and hauls him back into an upright position.

He drops the racket and moves the knife to hold the handle between his teeth. He straddles her, wrapping his fingers tightly around her throat, and chokes her until she’s unconscious; his eyes are locked on Luke and Javier the whole time, daring them to move. Javier looks like he wants to fight, but Luke is holding him back with a hand on his shoulder. They don’t dare to move from the wall.  

“You two will deal with this,” he orders when he’s positive she’s knocked out, grabbing the knife and using it to gesture at the Ravens in the area. They don’t move, still watching him with hesitation and fear. He gives them a cold look and snaps with his good hand.

“If you don’t hurry, Jakob is going to bleed out,” Luke springs into action and rushes to the man. Javier stays glued to his spot.

“Fucking let him,” Jean hisses in French, his voice hoarse, “I’ll kill him myself if I have to.”

He realizes just then that Jakob his been shouting at him in Russian, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Just shut up already!” Nathaniel hisses at the man, gingerly wrapping Jean’s arm around his shoulders and lifting him up. They nearly fall over twice, but manage to stand. A glance behind tells him that Luke is working on a makeshift tourniquet to wrap around his forearm and that his knee is in a lot of pain. Nathaniel has a death grip on the handle of his blade, his senses hyper aware of their surroundings. He will not make the same mistake twice.

That’s why he’s ready when he hears the subtle shift from the side. He turns and launches his knife at Javier, who looks like he was getting ready to charge. The knife sinks deep into his shoulder and he cries out in Spanish. One look tells Nathaniel it’s a flesh wound; he’ll still be able to play.

“How about you call Michael and stop acting like a fucking idiot,” he warns, “I have plenty more where that came from. Do. Not. Test. Me.”

Javier doesn’t call his bluff and sinks to his knees, glaring daggers at them as he clutches the handle of the knife and fishes his phone from his pocket. Nathaniel readjusts his grip on Jean before they start their slow exit from the Red Hall.

They reach the 2nd TV den to see Beck and Gabriela on the couch, a sitcom playing on the TV behind them. Both Gabriela and Beck are on their feet the second they see the two, quickly approaching but coming to a stop when they see Nathan’s glare on Nathaniel’s face.

“We were told to stay here,” Beck hesitantly starts, eyes flickering between Jean, Nathaniel, and the blade, “They turned on all of the TVs and hit me when I asked why - are you guys ok?!”

Nathaniel notices the bruise forming around his right eye; it was definitely going to leave a mark for the next few days.

“Get him on the couch,” Gabriela steps away to give them space, motioning Beck to do the same. Nathaniel is hesitant at first in whether or not he can trust them. It does make sense, though. Gabriela had always favored Jean and Nathaniel to Jakob’s crew, and she knows better than to get involved if she didn’t want Beck to get hurt.

As Nathaniel escorts Jean over, Gabriela mutes the TV, leaving the sounds coming from the other two dens to fill the silence.

Maneuvering Jean onto the couch is difficult but not impossible. Gabriela is beside Nathaniel as soon as Jean is lying down. “Grab an ice pack from the fridge,” she tells Beck before getting to work examining Jean’s current state, “Has Michael been called?”

“Where's Riko?” Nathaniel asks instead, the weight of all that transpired fully hitting him at that moment.

“Picking up the new recruits from the airport,” Gabriela answers absent-mindedly as she lifts Jean's shirt. She pokes at a few discolored areas, pulling groans, hisses, and heavily sighs from the backliner.

When Beck returns, she gingerly lifts Jean to place the ice packs against his bruising back and frowns at Nathaniel.

“He's definitely got some fucked up ribs. He’ll be bedridden for a couple of days. There might even be a broken nose and a concussion. Hard to tell, though. Have you called Michael?”

“Javier should have by now,” Nathaniel studies his friend’s beaten face and tenses, “Is it enough to get him out?”

“‘Out?’” Beck repeats, “He’s not going to be able to play for a month at least! Look at him!”

“No,” Gabriela corrects. Beck stares at her dumbfounded and she merely spares him a glance, “We’ve played in worse conditions, Beck.”

The new recruit gasps and runs a hand through his hair, “Oh good Jesus, you can’t be serious...What did I sign myself up for?!”

“The best college Exy team in the country, a guaranteed professional career, and a decent shot at making Court,” Nathaniel snaps at him before turning away from them. He leaves the room and heads to the kitchen, popping his dislocated thumb back into place with a frustrated grunt. He opens the silverware drawer and grabs the sharpest knife he sees before heading back to the den.

When Gabriela sees his weapon, she moves to block his path, “Nathaniel, don’t-”

“I need him out of here,” he answers earnestly, shoulders tense and body sore, “This isn’t enough. You just said-”

“He’s in a lot of pain, you’re going to make it worse for him later on,” she tries to reason, “Yes, you’d be getting him out of the Nest, but it’s a temporary fix. You’ll only be causing him more pain and when he comes back, Riko-”

“He’s not coming back,” Nathaniel finally tells her, “I’m getting him out, I won’t let him stay here any longer.”

She glares at him then, “That could get you killed if you told anyone but me,” she glances at Beck, who’s busy beside Jean and oblivious to their stand-off, “Whatever you have planned-”

“It will work,” he interrupts, “I know it will work. But I have to leave Edgar Allan for a few hours - 2 days at most - in order to make it work.”

“That’s suicide! You nearly died the last time you came back! The only reason you recovered is because of Riko’s crush. He knows you don’t like him now! Grant and-”

“I know that, Jakob made it very clear,” he hisses, “but I need to do this. Riko is going to change the ranking when the new recruits arrive. If he separates me from Jean, he will die.” This is news Gabriela wasn’t aware of, and it’s clear when her eyes widen with shock. She looks anxiously over at Beck, and Nathaniel knows their conversation is over, “Worry about yourself and Beck; let me help Jean.”

“...Alright,” she nods and steps away, “I’ll be here when you get back. I’ll keep an eye on you.”

“You can try,” he scoffs humorlessly, “but it’ll be in vain. Leave.”

She gives him a meaningful look before taking another step away, “Beck, come on.”

Nathaniel hides the knife behind his leg when Beck stands up, “ Will he be okay?”

“Yes. Nathaniel will take over. You’re going to help me find some gauze and tape while we’re waiting on Michael.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be much help. I’ve never done this before…” their voices are drowned out by the sounds of the TVs in the other two dens.

Nathaniel hesitates for a moment before he approaches Jean. The Frenchman practically passed out the second he hit the cushions, and Nathaniel is grateful for that. It’ll make things a little easier.

He kneels beside him and tests the sharpness of the blade on his thumb. It must have been a new knife; it slices his skin like butter. He wipes the blood off on his shorts

He doesn’t want to do this, not to Jean, but he doesn’t have a choice. He looks away from him one more time to steel his nerves when he catches sight of the headline on the muted TV.

There’s a picture of the PSU Foxes striker, Seth Gordon, with the red banner on the bottom reading ‘EXY Striker dead from overdose earlier this evening.’ The confirmation is enough to solidify his choice.

“Neil?” he whips his head back to see Jean squinting up at him, pain furrowing his brow, “Are you alright?”

He clenches his jaw, counting to ten in English and German in his head. He can’t be Neil right now, as much as he wants to. This is Nathaniel’s world, Neil is useless for a situation like this.

“This will hurt,” is all he says before he brings the knife down on Jean’s chest.

 

* * *

 

 

The cousins and Kevin are in Columbia that night. After partying at Eden’s Twilight for hours, Andrew is smoking in his room when Nicky throws himself against his door. He stumbles into the room and Andrew smiles, waiting for his excuse for risking a death sentence by coming in there.

“Seth overdosed,” He chokes out after a moment of frozen silence, suddenly sober from the chill that the news must have given him. Andrew raises his eyebrows, unimpressed.

“And?”

“‘And?’ What do you mean, ‘and?’” He gasps, clearly appalled by his reaction. Andrew’s expression doesn’t change as he watches Nicky, “Andrew...our teammate is dead!”

He wasn't expecting that, but he doesn't let it show. “He knew what he was risking by taking those drugs; it’s not like his loss is ours. Kevin will probably agree.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Nicky sways, looking green and smashing his hand against his mouth. Andrew yawned.

“How’d you find out?”

“Coach called,” Aaron enters the room then, looking more shaken by the news than Andrew thought necessary. He hesitates before continuing, “His body was found in a bathroom at Bacchus...he’s been dead for hours.”

“Drowned in his puke? Disgusting.”

“Jesus, Andrew!”

“Coach wants us back,” Aaron continues, sparing Nicky a glance for his outburst, “We’re leaving.”

“Are we?” the blond questions his reflection in the window.

“Andrew,” His double repeats, his tone harsher, “We’re leaving.”

“Oh God, Allison,” Nicky mumbles from where he’s melted onto the floor, “Poor Allison.”

“Leaving now doesn’t change the fact that he’s gone,” Kevin calls from the hallway, “He’s dead if we go back to campus now and he’s dead if we leave tomorrow.”

“Can you show any sort of sympathy whatsoever?” Nicky looks at him horrified.

“Sympathy? I don’t feel bad, I feel angry,”

“Better than nothing, I suppose,” he scornfully hiccups before standing, “I was afraid you were a complete asshole. Now I know you’re just an ass.”

“You can leave my room now,” Andrew ‘helpfully’ supplies from his perch by the window.

“I’m angry because we’re now at 8 players and we need a new striker. It’s not like he made the team any better, anyway.”

“Fuck this!” Nicky hisses and storms out of the room, stomping down the stairs; the force of his door slamming shakes the windows in his room. Kevin appears in his doorway with a dark expression. Aaron sports one of his own as he looks between the two. He scoffs “Fuck off,” before leaving the room, heading back to his room quietly.

“Wow, even Aaron’s gone bitchy on us,” Andrew grins.

“We’ll be disqualified if we can’t find a new striker.”

“Sucks,” comes his retort in a puff of smoke.

“I don’t know how we’re gonna pull this off,” He continues, starting to pace in Andrew’s room, “It’s too late to scout outside of the school for this season. We have to find someone who’s a student on campus. But no one in the right mind would join us while we have this bad of a rep.”

“The season hasn’t started yet. Stop being a drama queen.”

“I can’t believe this; even in death, Seth manages to screw us over on the court.” Kevin scratches the back of his head, a clear sign of his anxiety. Andrew doesn’t have the patience to deal with him right now.

“We’re stocked up on everything in the kitchen. You’re replacing whatever you finish - even the good shit. You can fucking afford it.” Kevin gives Andrew one last glare before leaving the room. The blond can hear his footsteps thudding down the stairs, followed by the sounds of cabinet doors slamming. When he doesn’t hear him come back up, he deduces the striker is going to sleep on the couch in order to be nearer to their liquor cabinet. He stabs out his cigarette.

He lights a new one and walks to his computer, jiggling the mouse to take it out of sleep mode. A quick search confirms Seth Gordon is dead - has been ever since they entered Eden’s Twilight 5 hours ago - and the police are calling it an accidental overdose.

If Andrew cared, he would have rolled his eyes. The only drugs that should have been in his system were anti-depressants. Even so, Allison and Seth were having one of their good weeks so there’s no reason for the dead boy to have taken any substance beyond alcohol.

The blond taps his finger against the desk impatiently. This was definitely a retaliation. Whoever did it couldn’t be too violent - then there’d be an investigation of foul play. Seth must have done something  awful to push someone to premeditated murder. His reputation outside of the Foxes wasn’t any better within, and Seth wasn’t exactly known for making ‘friends’. None of the Foxes were capable of homicide - excluding himself - which narrows the list exponentially.

When it clicks, the smile on his face is automatic. He closes out of the window and leans back in his seat, slouching a bit and crossing his legs. A laugh masquerading as a huff releases the smoke in his lungs, and he looks up the the ceiling as his theory forms.

Riko. Of course it was Riko. Seth practically beat the shit out of his precious backliner during their scrimmage. He remembers seeing the Raven approach Seth after the first check and asking him something. A conversation in the locker room after that disaster of a game revealed that Riko asked if he was ‘Seth Gordon’; the striker eloquently confirmed this by telling him to go fuck himself. Seth was too volatile and oblivious to recognize the threat.  

He can’t prove it, but Andrew knows he’s right. It doesn’t make sense though. Surely, Coach Moriyama wants the showdown between the Ravens and Foxes to occur: the amount of attention from the press they would receive - as well as settling once and for all who the better player is between Kevin and Riko - would surely bring profit. If the Foxes had one more player, then he could see the shred of logic behind getting rid of Seth.

Now, though, there’s a very real threat of being disqualified. Their team was small before, but they had managed to meet the bare minimum amount of players necessary to participate. Was Riko confident that they’d be able to find a replacement for Seth in time for the ERC’s deadline? How much time would the ERC give them? Or was this some sort of ploy to pressure Kevin into returning to Castle Evermore as an assistant coach?

He laughs at the thought of Riko using this as a romantic gesture towards Neil. What a single-minded alpha-male thing to do.

He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He’s half tempted to ignore it, and he does for a solid 5 minutes. It’s when he gets a second alert reminding him of the unopened message that he sits up straighter and finally checks the device.

 **Neil:** _317?_

He crushes the cigarette stub on the table. His grin is manic.

He moves quickly and silently down the stairs, coming upon Kevin on the couch nursing a bottle of Grey Goose. He reaches over and snatches the bottle from his hands, startling the striker into a sitting position. “Change of plans. Come.”

“Where?” He counters, but stands to follow immediately. Andrew takes a swig from the bottle before capping it and tossing it back to Kevin. He’s still cognizant enough to catch the bottle with only slight fumbling.

“Disneyland.” Kevin scowls.

“Why aren’t the others coming?”

“Not exactly an appropriate location for those two right now. Think, Kevin.”

“Andrew-”

“Don’t make me change my mind about bringing you with me. I’ll have a blast by myself,” the striker promptly shuts his mouth and clenches his jaw. “Think of this as a courtesy.”

With Kevin finally shutting up and two seated in the car, Andrew starts to reflect on the situation. One thing is certain: Neil Josten must have fucking death wish if he was willing to break into Andrew’s suite - it’s just a matter of whose rage he’s willing to entice. However, there is Riko’s little infatuation to keep in mind.

Neil’s not at the Nest anymore, and based on what he knows from Kevin it’s not an easy feat to leave. The real question is whether or not Neil left or was released. Is this Riko acknowledging he fucked up and attempting to solve their number problem? Did Coach Moriyama disapprove and send a replacement to save them the trouble? Was Neil chosen as a punishment for Riko’s actions? How much of this backlash will affect his and Kevin’s agreement?

His hands tighten on the wheel as he swerves onto the freeway. The amount of force he uses on the gas pedal causes the car to violently jolt forward as he weaves in and out of lanes, ignoring the way Kevin is holding onto his door handle and seat belt for dear life. He can't bring himself to care, not when he has an intruder in his room to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sons! I feel so bad!! I think i might post some bro jean/neil headcannons on tumblr to make myself feel better because this was brutal.
> 
> i feel like i made the whole fight scene waaaay too short? like it moved too fast? hopefully not.
> 
> Anyway, i'll try my best to get another update out asap. i would have posted this last night but it was 2AM and I was exhausted and there was still andrew's POV to type. 
> 
> I moved all of my furniture yesterday. my literal ony forms of entertainment now are internet and laptop so hopefully i can do ALL OF THE TYPING (i'm not as well organized as other authors, i type a chapter then post then type another chapter then post - nothing is written ahead of time :/) 
> 
> in case you haven't noticed, my grammar is shit in my authors notes because i'm just going to go back and delete these later anyway??? so it doesnt matter, right?
> 
> Thank you again so much for the comments! you're all literally the cutest people and i just can't even right now :3
> 
> This isn't beta'd, i'll go back and fix mistakes later. 
> 
> I'm going to crawl into the foxhole court tags and try to make myself feel better now :(


	9. Take Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've recently realized Google doc has been changing blonde to blond -_- both are correct but i like the 'e' at the end. i'll try and fix. 
> 
> Update- I was just educated about the blond(e) thing so ignore me!! I'll switch it back!
> 
> now it's time for the inevitable. Say it with me! "Sorry for butchering the characters"

The second Andrew spots him, he’s across the room in a flash. He grabs him by the front of his shirt and hauls him out of the beanbag chair. He slams him against the wall, lifting Nathaniel so that his feet are off of the ground. He’s not impressed by the show of strength.

“Neil! So good to see you again!” he cheerfully greets, sporting a broad smile bearing all of his teeth.

“Andrew Minyard!” Nathaniel says in kind, hands coming up to wrap around his wrists for support, “I was starting to think that you didn’t get my text. You never replied.”

“Neil?” The Raven’s eyes flicker over to the doorway where Kevin is standing, confusion evident on his face.

“Just the man I was looking for!” Nathaniel looks back down and gently squeezes Andrew’s wrists, “You certainly don’t fail to deliver. Down, please.”

Andrew obliges and lowers him so that he’s back on his feet. However, he doesn’t step out of Nathaniel’s personal space, practically pressing his body against the other, “You used me just to get to Kevin? I’m hurt. I was starting to think we had something.”

“I’d say we’re right on the cusp of friendship,” comes his reply, “Don’t mind me, feel free to move whenever you’d like.”

“How’d you get in?” Andrew questions instead. Behind him, Kevin stands guarded by the door, ready to bolt if necessary.

“Same way as you,” he jabs back, “through the front door.”

“Where’s Jean?” Kevin finally finds his voice. Something flashes in Andrew’s eyes at the inquiry and he nods.

“Oh yeah; where _is_ Jean? From what I hear, Ravens are never alone,” he finally steps back and pulls a knife from his armband, “Trust me, ‘friend,’ it’s better if he comes out on his own. You don’t want me to find him.”

“He’s not here,” Nathaniel rests his hand on his hip, directly over the handle of his own knife. Andrew notices this and smiles, similarly to how an adult would when admiring a child’s macaroni art.

“You wouldn’t mind if I did a quick check, would you? I’m paranoid like that.”

“By all means. I came to talk to Kevin, anyway.”

Andrew watches him a moment longer. Nathaniel refuses to look away. Finally, he sheathes his knife and crosses his arms, bringing his thumb to his lips to bite on the nail. Nathaniel removes his hand from his own concealed weapon, his smile gone.

“Come inside, Kevin. You look like an idiot,” Andrew comments without taking his gaze off of Nathaniel. The Raven focuses on Kevin when he finally moves, closing the door behind him and approaching the two boys.

Once he reaches Andrew’s side, the blond speaks up again, “Ground rules. One: Everything said will either be spoken in German or English. The second I hear French, I will drag you out of this room and push you down the stairs. Two: if I ask a question, I get an answer. No exceptions. If it’s not the truth, or if you try to be funny, it’s down the stairs you go. Three: you leave when I say you can, no sooner or later. Four: You don’t touch him,” he gestures to Kevin with a nod, “and you don’t touch me. And finally,” he steps forward and holds his hand out, “You give me your knife. You can have it back when you leave.”

Nathaniel thinks over his conditions, finding the second one to be a little unsettling, “I want immunity from two questions.”

“You don’t get to negotiate,” he clarifies with a tilt of his head, “not when it’s my suite you broke into. All or nothing.”

Nathaniel doesn’t have time for this. “Fine.”

He pulls the blade out of hiding in one graceful move and hands it over, handle out, to Andrew. He takes it with a knowing grin and takes a step back.

“How long have you been here?” Andrew finally asks, initiating the conversation for the three.

“I arrived an hour ago.”

“How did you leave the Nest, Neil?” Kevin shifts on his feet. The scathing look in Nathaniel’s eyes betrays his annoyance.

“Do I look like ‘Neil’ right now?” he questions. Something flashes in Kevin’s expression when he realizes his mistake and Nathaniel continues, “I took a car and a plane. Getting out is never hard for me, Kevin, you know this.”

“What is hard, then?” Andrew chimes in. Nathaniel spares him a glance.

“Staying away.”

“Oh, how cryptic.”

“If Jean isn’t with you, then where is he now?” Kevin crosses his arms, curling in on himself slightly, “You do realize what you’re doing to him by being here, right?”

“Of course. If things are going the way I hope they are, then Jean is at Michael’s house.”

Kevin’s eyes widen. “What happened?! Why would you even ‘hope’ for that?!”

“Me first,” Andrew calls out, “why is this bad?

“It would bring bad press if a Raven was sent to the hospital by their own captain. Michael is the Raven’s head medic, so his house is where anyone with serious injuries go to recover-”

“Answer my question,” Kevin interrupts, clearly agitated, “What happened?”

“Neil, what’s your middle name?”

Nathaniel glares at Andrew, who’s smiling as if his attempt to annoy Kevin is unintentional, “Abram.  Jean didn’t think things through and tried to threaten the team when they started acting like dicks. He pulled rank and said he was going to go to Riko with rumors that would get them in trouble if they didn’t leave me alone.”

“And how exactly were they harassing you?”

“They tried peer pressuring me into dating Riko,” Nathaniel answers apathetically, “it happened a week ago, during Riko’s interview. Thanks for the text.”

“I can’t believe you guys are texting,” Kevin groans.

“Well, believe it and get over it. I’m not here to talk about Andrew,” Nathaniel ignores the blond’s disappointed huff and continues, “Today, the Ravens cornered us and tried to beat the shit out of Jean.”

“And you?”

“They cuffed me and held me back to watch.”

“I refuse to believe you allowed that to happen,” Andrew moves to sit down on the couch, motioning Kevin to join him. Nathaniel remains standing.

“I may have said some things to turn their attention to me.”

“So you took advantage of Riko’s infatuation, knowing that they wouldn’t be allowed to hurt you,” Kevin guesses. When Nathaniel tenses, Andrew claps with amusement.

“Oh my God. You two are officially dating now, aren’t you?” he claps once more, “Mazel tov! It was Seth’s death that did it, huh? I should have guessed.”

“So Riko really is behind Seth’s death?” Kevin asks his companion, “and now Nathaniel is out of the Nest? In Fox Tower?!” he stands up and paces, “Shit, he’s gonna come here, he’s gonna come-”

“They ratted me out to Riko,” he says, clenching his fists, “they told him I never was, and never will be, interested in him, as well as Jean acting like he had authority over them. Riko granted them permission to attack us.”

“And Seth’s death?”

“...Yes, Riko arranged that as well,” Nathaniel admits, “it was meant to be a ‘romantic gesture’ for me. Apparently, he was on his way to tell me when they stopped him.”

“There’s no telling what Riko will do once he realizes Neil is here,” Kevin turns his attention to a relaxed Andrew, anxiety heavy on his shoulders, “Especially since he not only knows Neil hates him, but he also left the Nest! And to top it all off, he’s with the Foxes!”

“I can handle it, Kevin,” Andrew sounds bored, “I told you, I’ll deal with Riko. I’m not going back on our arrangement.”

“I don’t know what it is you think you can do,” Nathaniel says before Kevin can get another word out, “but you won’t have to do anything. I’m going back to the Nest once I’m done here.”  

“You can’t go back!” Kevin is the first to respond, “You know you can’t! He will kill you-”

“He won’t kill me,” Nathaniel argues, “He’ll hurt me, yes, and it will be very painful, but he won’t kill me.”

“How do you know that?” Kevin demands, “How can you be so sure?”

“I’m an investment,” he says as if it’s obvious, “just like you. As long as the Moriyamas can make money off of me, I won’t end up dead in a ditch somewhere. There’s also Nathan to keep in mind; A dead son at the hands of a business partner? He’d have a field day.”

“What if I don’t see you again?” Kevin persists, “There have been nights where he talked about locking you up. He’s not above that-”

“It sounds like you two have the weirdest conversations,” Andrew remarks.

“He can’t do that anymore, Kevin. The press knows my face. I have a fanbase now. If I go missing, it’ll be suspicious, especially with the FBI sniffing around for Nathan.”

“FBI? Since when?”

“Couple of months ago. They’ve known for years that the Butcher has a wife and son, but they don’t know who or where. Since my exposure to the media, there’s talk that I make a good candidate.”

“Nice to know the cops aren’t completely useless,” Andrew sighs.

“We’re getting sidetracked,” Nathaniel snaps, “I didn’t come here for me.”

“Yes, yes, we know,” he groans nonchalantly, “you’re here for Kevin, blah blah.”

“I’m not here ‘for’ him, either,” He corrects, making eye contact with the taller male, “I thought it was obvious by now, I'm here for Jean. You owe me and I’m here to collect.”

The striker’s eyes widen. Andrew perks up. “And how exactly is he in your debt?”

“He left.”

Andrew rolls his eyes, “You’re sounding like a broken record, Neil, and I’m tired of this track. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“We had an agreement,” Nathaniel continues, still not looking away, “A plan, actually. Kevin, Jean, and I were going to leave together.”

“This is new,” he leans forward, pulling a cigarette  box from his pocket and tapping one out, “Kevin, you never told me this.”

“It wasn’t relevant,” he argues weakly.

“You don’t get to make that choice,” he pulls out his lighter and lights the tip, “There’s a story here and you’re gonna tell it. Continue.”

Nathaniel hesitates for a second. “When I was thirteen, my mother took me and we ran from the Nest. I was gone for three years, traveling throughout the US, Canada, and parts of Europe.”

“That’s a lot of places to be in such a short amount of time.”

“We probably spent 3 weeks at most in any given town. We had the Moriyamas, my father, and the FBI looking for us, so we didn’t have the luxury of settling down. I met some of my mother’s contacts and made some of my own as well.”

“Is this the part where you mention how your mother died?” Andrew blows smoke in his direction, “Because you only told me the aftermath.”

“Shot by my father’s men in Seattle during the 2nd year.”

“I didn’t know that,” Kevin says quietly.

“Afterwards, I didn’t know what to do. I only had a binder filled with money drop locations and contact information, as well as a duffel filled with clothes. I thought about getting into contact with my Uncle, and then I remembered Kevin and Jean were still at the Nest,” Nathaniel rolls his shoulders, agitated, “I didn’t want to leave them there.”

“How sweet!” He coos, “So, so stupid, but sweet.”

“While I traveled back to Castle Evermore, I called my contacts and set up favors. My mother’s maiden name carries a lot of weight in America’s underworld, and it also helped that I ran errands for a couple of those people during our stay in their towns.”

Nathaniel can feel himself getting angrier the more he talks, and looking at Kevin only makes things worse, “I had a plan. I was getting everything set up. It was just a matter of waiting for the right opportunity. I told you to wait- both you and Jean! He listened, at least!”

“Neil-”

“And then Riko broke your hand!” Nathaniel has to force himself not to approach Kevin. He can see the way Andrew leans forward, ready to stand as if anticipating him to charge, “You came to me and I begged you to wait just a little longer! They were almost done! We were so close _and you left! You didn’t trust me!”_

“He would have killed me, Neil,” Kevin tries to reason, frowning in the face of Nathaniel’s rage, “I told you this. He was going to kill me-”

“No, he wasn’t! You and I are investments! They know they can profit off us, even with you as a fucking cripple!” Kevin flinches at the word, “You would have been in pain, but you would have lived! You would have been an assistant coach! The Master wasn’t lying about that!”

“That would have destroyed me, and you know it,” Kevin fires back, his own anger finally seeping in, “If I couldn’t play Exy-”

“That just makes you a selfish bastard! Jean isn’t in our position, you prick! We would have lived, but he’s disposable! His family literally sold him to the Master! He’ll never be as good at Exy as you are, no one will! The Moriyamas won’t suffer any major losses from his death and Riko is just waiting for an excuse to off him!”

“You should have left without me!”

“How could we?! We lost our opportunity when the Master decided to put the Nest on lockdown and everyone under surveillance! Thank you _so much_ for that!” Nathaniel gritted his teeth, “Because of you, I lost my contacts’ trust by failing to uphold my end of the bargains I made. I had to think of a new plan and I will not let you ruin this one as well!”

Nathaniel realizes a second too late that Andrew is in his space. The blond’s hand latches onto the back of his neck and he pulls him down, only slightly. Nathaniel didn’t think it was possible for him to get any more tense until Andrew touched him.

“Use your inside voice. How does Kevin fit into all of this?” Andrew asks, his cigarette half gone. Nathaniel gulps, his mouth dry, and continues only when he decides that the hand on his neck is not a warning.

“I got Jean out of the Nest,” he starts, much calmer than before, “I need someone to take him and keep an eye on him.”

“No. Absolutely not,” Kevin is quick to dismiss, “That’s suicide for everyone involved.”

The pressure on his neck increases slightly when Nathaniel twitches. “You’re not dead yet and I’ll be there to distract Riko. After today’s events, I’m sure he’s more than happy to sink his teeth into me.”

“He’s not dead because of me,” Andrew clarifies, giving one more squeeze before releasing Nathaniel. He straightens up as the other stabs out the tip of the cigarette on the coffee table, “Kevin and I have a deal. If you want Jean here, then he’s going to need me. However, there’s nothing I want from him that could make it worth my while.”

“What an arrogant thing to say.”

“It’s true,” Kevin confirms. Nathaniel eyes Andrew with suspicion and he stares back with apathy.

Again, he doesn't have time for this. “What would it take, then?”

“You are so fucking desperate,” Andrew laughs, “I’ll remember this.”

“Andrew, what do you want?”

“I don’t want anything.” Nathaniel exhales loudly.

“What’s the deal you made with Kevin?”

“Secret~” Andrew smirks, interrupting Kevin before he is able to get a word out. The Raven glares him down, his frustration palpable.

“Whatever is going on between you two is allowing him to play Exy, right?” Nathaniel says, “That’s why he’s here, because he can keep playing without a team's judgement of having a gimp hand.”

“Careful with those words, Neil, he’s not overly fond of them,” Andrew comments, sensing Kevin’s twitch. Nathaniel redirects his gaze to Kevin, the blue as piercing as ice.

“Your striker is dead and you’re below the minimum requirement to play. As it stands, your season will be over before it even starts. Way to kick off your comeback, Kevin.

“Meanwhile, I’m offering a solution - a Raven, in case you forgot - on a silver platter and you refuse to accept it?”

“He won’t work with us,” Kevin clenches his teeth, “Jean is a backliner, not to mention he’s always had an attitude problem with anyone who wasn’t his superior. He’s also more obedient to Riko than either of us.”

“I find that hard to believe coming from you, Day,”

“You just have to train him as a striker. Riko fucked up by killing your striker and the Master wants a showdown to happen. When he sees Jean is here, he'll be upset at first and will probably take it out on me, but he won't come after him. This is a fitting punishment for Riko's impulsive behavior, since Jean is Riko's responsibility. All you'll have to deal with is a petulant child screaming into the void and maybe a few angry fans. Jean will work with you.”

“That's all one big 'maybe.' He’ll go running back to the Ravens the second he recovers,” Kevin insists, “That’s assuming his legs are mutilated enough to delay him that long.”

“He’ll stay because you’ll tell him that I’m going to join the Foxes in the spring,” Andrew actually laughs at that.

“It’s already too late for Jean to transfer; what makes you think you’ll be able to as well?”

“Is that what it’s like to not have money?” Nathaniel snips, “How inconvenient, being unable buy out a committee member or two.”

“Allison would have so much fun with you.” He ignores the blond’s comment.

“I have everything lined up for Jean to become a Fox, all I need is your help to keep him here.”

“And a signature from one David Wymack.” Andrew retrieves another cigarette

“Wymack won’t make a move without Kevin’s consent, and being here has told me Kevin won’t make a decision without yours,” Nathaniel glowers, “Looks like I came here for you after all.”

“Indeed,” He chuckles, releasing a puff of smoke. He pockets the lighter and looks at Kevin expectantly, “He’s presented his case. Verdict?”

The striker scowls, his fists clenched in his jacket pockets. He stares Nathaniel down unflinchingly, acting as if talking is the equivalent of pulling teeth.

“To get him to stay, you want us to tell him you’re coming in the spring?”

“Yes.”

“You want us to lie,” it’s a statement, not a question. Nathaniel hesitates.

“Yes. The chances of me leaving in the spring are slim to none.”

“I’ll only agree to this if you can guarantee that you’ll be able to leave the Nest again,” Kevin finally offers. 

Nathaniel gives him a weary look. His request is loaded, but he's not sure with what. "I've always been a runner. I can make it happen." 

“And when you leave, you don’t run away. Come to us and give me your game.”

“This is ridiculous,” Andrew huffs. 

"You have potential to make Court, Neil," Kevin continues unfazed, "and you're an idiot if you can't see that. I won't let the Moriyama's take that from you while you still have a chance."

"Fucking junkie.”

“Deal.” Nathaniel is quick to agree, “I can’t tell you when, but I promise you that I _will_ leave. You'll be the first to know.”

“And how do we know you’ll stay away for good this time?” Nathaniel looks at him as if he’s personally offended by the question.

“Because you'll have Jean," he states the obvious, "I won’t have a reason to go back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is short because dialogue and etc. i hope it doesn't disappoint.
> 
> oh good jesus, I'm so bad at chapter titles. this is why i wanted to leave them at 'part 1, part 2 etc' but i changed it. idk why. i wish i hadn't. so lame. Also, i don't like the title for the fic. i might change it but that might be confusing
> 
> it was honestly so much fun to type this. i had a blast! I'm actually typing the fic in a google doc so that i can have access to it on my phone on the go, but it's so annoying because i have to scroll down 80+ pages. I'm considering creating separate google docs for each chapter, but i'm like 'nah.'
> 
> I'm not going to be able to update until sometime after July 4th because i'm a busy bee. i'll still be active on tumblr tho because i need a way to destress. 
> 
> Again, you all have been nothing but sweet in your comments, it's giving me cavities. thank you for the love!  
> Is there anything else to tell you? I feel like i'm forgetting something. whatevs.
> 
>  
> 
> I REMEMBERED: friendly reminder that in this AU, Neil's dad isn't a Moriyama grunt but a business partner. The alliance between the two was formed when Nathan 'sold'/ loaned/gave his son to Kengo


	10. Uninvited Observation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for butchering characters :/

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Wymack hisses as soon as the door opens. Andrew gives him an unimpressed look; It’s clear that their coach wasn’t sleeping before they arrived. A bottle of whisky on the coffee table, as well as two glass tumblers and the team nurse on the couch, back his theory up.

“Oh, boys,” Abby starts, surprise evident on her face, “Have you gotten any sleep at all?” she stands and starts for the door, coming to a halt once she recognizes Andrew’s body language, the way he hunches over slightly and standing just a little bit in front of Kevin.

Andrew imagines that Kevin must look like a wreck and shifts to the side, giving Kevin room to walk forward once Wymack gets the hint; he does, and Kevin is through the door allowing Abby to guide him towards the kitchen. Andrew enters once Wymack has backed away, returning to his seat and rubbing his jaw.

“I’d like to think that you’re here because of Seth,” he starts with irritation lacing his tone, “but if I were to think realistically, you were probably celebrating his death in Columbia.”

“To learn that you think so low of me, Coach,” Andrew gasps with feigned sadness, “It hurts. Like an overdose in a shitty bathroom.”

“Why are you here?” He cuts to the chase, an obvious indicator of his missing patience, “I have to deal with enough shit as it is. If you’re here to add more, then you can-”

“I’m here to solve a problem of yours, actually,” He interrupts with a huff, “But if you’re going to sit there and be ungrateful-”

“There are a lot of problems. You’ll need to be more specific.” Andrew graces him with one more smug grin before continuing.

“I have a replacement for Seth.”

Wymack scoffs.

“Exactly how much trouble is this going to bring us?” He exhales back into the cushions. Andrew leans over and grabs the bottle, pouring himself a generous amount in Wymack’s glass before capping it.

“Minimal to none, or so I’ve been reassured,” Andrew practically inhales half of the liquid, “We’d need to retrain him, though, since he’s a backliner. Kevin has already assumed that responsibility; in fact, I think he’s eager for it.”

“He looks eager to crawl into the bottom of a hole, if you ask me.”

“Funny how I didn’t and yet you gave your opinion anyway.”

Wymach glares. “I can’t believe I’m going to skim over the fact that one of my players is dead in favor of having this technical discussion with you. As much as I admire your timely solution, it doesn’t matter. The school board and the ERC need to review our replacement, and the season is too close for us to push all of that bureaucratic bullshit through in time. Deadlines have already passed-”

“‘It’s been taken care of,’” Andrew quotes as he sets the glass down, “All that’s needed is confirmation on your part. Tomorrow morning - today, actually - you’re going to get a phone call. If you so choose, you’ll give your consent to have this new player transferred to Palmetto State with a contract to play for the Foxes.”

“How long, exactly?”

“How does a year sound?”

“Doesn’t sound like this kid is worth my time.”

“Oh, I’m being more than generous with how long he can stay,” There’s an odd look in Wymack’s eyes, and Andrew guesses he’s finally considering the option, given his suspicions of the offer.

“Who is this kid, exactly?” He demands, “Will he be a problem?”

“Don’t worry, he fulfills all of the prerequisites for becoming a Fox,” Andrew tsks, “Shitty childhood, broken family, abuse, fucked in the head-”

“Name, Andrew.”

He spreads his arms wide, an amused grin stretching thin across his face, “Jean Moreau.”

There's recognition in his expression. “I’m drawing a blank. Tell me how I know that name.”

“He’s a Raven, Riko’s right hand man after Kevin. Why not add to the collection?”

“Absolutely not.”

“At least he’ll be competent. That’s more than I could say for Seth.”

“This isn’t something I’d expect from you.”

“Maybe if you got to know me-”

“I want to know how this happened,” Wymack snaps, “I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm not agreeing to a god damn thing until you tell me exactly how I’m getting a second Raven added to my roster.”

Andrew considers him for a moment, weighing the validity of the threat. The pause has Wymack itching to stand and leave, that much is obvious, so he waits until right before the Coach explodes before he responds.

“We were asked to take him. After some consideration, I agreed.”

“Who asked?” There’s a sharpness to his tone. Andrew disregards it.

“A friend of Kevin.”

“Kevin doesn’t have friends.”

“You’re right, that’s not a good term for it,” He doesn’t elaborate any further than that, “Nathaniel Josten stopped by and made the offer. You’d like him, he actually feels bad about Seth’s death.”

“And you trust him? Seriously? ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t.”

“It’s not _him_ I trust, it’s his evaluation of the consequences. Riko will be upset to have his chew toy taken away, so all of his aggression and attention will be directed to the one who did it.”

“That’s us, Andrew-”

“I said ‘the guy who _took_ him away,’ not ‘the people who’re taking him.’ Keep up, Coach, I’d hate to explain myself twice; once is already tedious.”

“What about their coach? He’s not too happy about Kevin, but to have another Raven removed from his roster...I know I’d be pissed if I lost any of my players.”

“I would joyfully sing my praises,” Andrew counters, “But no, Coach Moriyama won’t be a problem. Neil shared that he has no involvement in Riko’s personal conquests, but this bullshit he pulled with us went too far. It’s a fitting punishment, replacing our fallen player with one of his own. He won’t be happy that it’s Moreau, but he won’t allow Riko to come after us.”

“If we were to have this Raven join the team - and that’s an ‘if,’ Minyard, I haven’t agreed to anything yet - we’re going to have to hold a press conference.”

“Coach Moriyama will beat you to it. Depending on what he says, we would just have to acknowledge or agree with whatever shit he musters up. That’s one of the more riskier components of this arrangement.”

There’s a pregnant silence between the two. Wymack is watching Andrew with a hard look, as if he’s waiting for Andrew to give something away, some sort of catch, that would give him more than enough cause to reject the offer. His reasons are good enough now, though.

However, Andrew knows how much he needs this player. It’s too late for the Foxes to find a new recruit, even with Kevin Day added to the team. Kevin has yet to prove himself capable on the court to the public, and even if there are any interested athletes willing to join the last ranked team in Class I Exy, it’s just as Wymack said earlier: bureaucratic bullshit and expired deadlines.

Wymack needs what Andrew is offering and he knows it. For Palmetto state, for the Foxes, for Kevin. Especially Kevin.

The tension in his shoulders bleed out in defeat as he sighs. He rubs his eyes. “How high is the risk for the rest of the team?”

Andrew curses his bleeding heart, “As I said, Riko will be too preoccupied to even think about bothering us until the Spring.”

“What about the kid? Jean? How does he feel about this?”

“Again, shitty childhood, fucked in the head, yaddah yaddah, but he should be fine after a few weeks.” Wymack glares.

“I’m not going to keep him here against his will.”

“You don’t have to. I will.” Andrew grins.

“And the other kid?” he raises his eyebrows.

“Neil? Not our concern.”

“You told me,” Wymack starts, pointing an accusatory finger at the goalkeeper, “that Riko is going to be too distracted ‘chewing up’ the one responsible for Jean’s transfer to pay any mind to us. That ‘Neil’’ kid is the one who came to you asking for the favor. He’s obviously the one who’s gonna be fucked by this mess.”

“How wonderful! You do listen!”

“Should I anticipate having a dead kid on my conscious?” he demands.

“If the kid isn’t stupid, then he won’t end up dead,” Andrew shrugs, “That’s all I have to say about that. I’m not here to tell you what to do.”

“Sure as hell sounds like you were trying to convince me.”

“You asked questions and I gave answers. I can be accommodating when I want to be.” he pivots on his heel and walks towards the kitchen, “Tell the school board you’ll take him or don’t. I don’t care enough to wait for an answer.”

He crosses the threshold into the kitchen shortly after and locks on to Kevin and Abby. She’s rubbing circles into his back, comforting him as he breathes heavy and nurses a bottle of alcohol. It’s a pathetic sight, and he’s not afraid to share his unwanted opinion.

“Really? And you were doing so well back in Columbia,” he mutters unimpressed, “I was half convinced that you had some steel in you, but here you are now: a whimpering mess over a bird that broke into our suite.”

“Andrew!” Abby snaps disapprovingly. Kevin flinches, but otherwise remains facing away from his keeper.

“Wymack needs to talk some things over with you,” He dismisses her, “he only has a few hours to think about it. ‘The sooner the better,’ and all of that other nonsense.”

Abby shoots him one more frown before turning to Kevin. “I’ll be in the other room if you need me,” she tells him softly, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze before leaving the two alone.

Andrew waits a moment, waiting to hear the muffled mutterings of a conversation before approaching Kevin.

“This thing that you’re doing right now? The flinching? It needs to stop, it’s pathetic,” he snaps, “I know you’ve heard Reynolds say it before: I don’t feel anything. Watching you cower at a name? It makes me feel sick.”

“You don’t understand,” Kevin fires back with a glare. If he cared enough, Andrew would want to applaud him for making progress, even if that anger is directed at the wrong person.

“No, I do understand, which is why I find it repulsive,” he reaches forward and tugs the bottle out of Kevin’s grip. The striker had a weak hold on it in the first place, so the action is easily done. He shakes it a little bit, sloshing around the contents, “This is fine for a little liquid courage occasionally. But you’ve been nursing these bottles ever since you decided to play with the Foxes. You’re a grown ass man, but if you’re acting like a child I will treat you as such.”

“You’re not serious-”

“You’ve grown your teeth, now use them. Time to wean you off this shit.” Andrew flips the bottle over and sticks the neck down the drain. Kevin releases a surprised yelp and reaches to save it, only to have Andrew snatch his wrist in a bruising grip.

He looks shell shocked watching the liquid pour down the drain, but he knows better than to make a second attempt. Andrew gives him one more warning squeeze before releasing his wrist. Once the bottle is empty, he picks the bottle back up and places it on the counter.

“What did Neil give you?” he asks, snapping Kevin out of his silent stupor. The question brings him back to attention much faster than he expects but his expression remains impassive. Kevin, however, gets defensive.

“Nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing, I saw it,” he snaps, “Yellowing envelope, around yea big. Probably a letter.”

“Nothing that concerns you.”

“I thought we’ve already gone over this,” he tsks, “You don’t get to make that decision.”

“Trust me, Andrew, leave it alone.”

“I’ll find out what it is eventually, you know that. Better to save me the trouble and tell me now.”

“You’re going to have to wait until ‘eventually’ comes,” Kevin takes a step back. Andrew watches him a second longer before erupting into laughter. Kevin is caught off guard by his borderline-hysterical amusement but he maintains his stance, keeping the side of his body that the letter is pocketed against away from Andrew.

“You see? This is how you should be acting whenever Riko is mentioned, not that sniveling bull shit Abby was comforting earlier,” he sniffs when he recovers, “but getting _sassy_ with me threatening your letter? As opposed to Riko threatening _your life_?”

“You don’t understand-”

“Say that one more time and I’ll rip your tongue out,” the smile doesn’t leave his face and Kevin effectively shuts up, “Don’t assume to know what I do and don’t understand. That’s what gets you into trouble and prevents me from upholding my end of our bargain. When I ask a question, I expect an answer - so tell me, Kevin, what’s up with that letter?”

A combination of defeat and resignation is evident in his eyes. “It’s a letter from my mom. I left it in the Nest when I came to Wymack.”

“Why would Neil feel compelled to bring you a letter?”

“Everything else in my bunk is replaceable. This isn’t.”

“How kind,” Andrew dismisses, missing Kevin’s relief at the subject being dropped in favor of pulling out his pill bottle to pour a tablet out. He swallows it dry.

“Now that Wymack and I have finished our chat, we’re leaving. We’ve left those losers alone long enough in Columbia, I’d hate to see the house in ruins after we’ve only been gone for a few hours.”

“Such little faith you have in your family,” Wymack gumbles from the kitchen doorway, crossing his inked arms over his chest, “At least you’re consistent in your lack of familial affection off the court as you are on it.”

“Yet another uninvited observation,” Andrew stage whispers to Kevin before turning to their coach, “I have no idea what you mean. This _is_ me being affectionate.”

Wymack glowers and drops the subject, “Be careful driving back to Columbia. I can’t afford to lose any more players.”

“Yes, ‘dad.’” Andrew snarks, paying no mind to Kevin’s twitch. He puts his pill bottle away and heads for the door, stopping right in front of Wymack and waiting for him to move his bulky frame. He complies with a huff, and Andrew heads to the hallway without bothering to check if Kevin is behind him.

“I expect to see your lot in a few hours: noon in the stadium lounge.” Andrew gives a two fingered salute as a form of acknowledgement. He turns to the left and heads toward the elevator. Andrew did his part: he told Wymack of the solution and answered his questions. It’s up to their coach now whether or not Jean joins the team, but Andrew already knows what his answer will be.

He curses Wymack’s bleeding heart a second time that day as the elevator doors open.

 

* * *

 

 

The confirmation text his contact Marco sends him does little to reassure his nerves. He’s on edge, standing just 10 yards away from the entrance to the Nest.

Neil knows what’s waiting for him, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready for it. He shudders and tilts his head back to observe the sky. The air is chilly with a morning breeze ruffling his hair, long shadows from the trees and stadium lowering the temperature even further.

He’s smoking a cigarette from a packet he took from Andrew’s suite before the goalkeeper arrived. He has the stick loosely resting between his lips, letting the heat work its way closer to his mouth. He hears leaves crunching behind him, and for a second allows himself to believe it is just the wind dragging dead foliage across the black top.

The rhythm is easily recognizable as footsteps, coming to a stop just beside him. He drops his gaze back to the entrance ahead of him and tenses only slightly at the hand that appears in his vision. It comes from the left, delicately pulling the half burned cigarette out of his mouth and dropping it onto the ground.

“I thought we broke you of this habit,” Riko comments as he steps forward and crushes the stick under his heel. He’s standing in front of Neil now, giving him an unimpressed glance and reaching to take the packet out of his hand. Neil allows him this small victory, “No matter; you’ve always known that I enjoy a challenge.”

“Was it the cameras or one of your little henchmen that spotted me first?” Neil pulls a cigarette he was keeping in his pocket out and lights it up, inhaling much deeper than necessary and holding the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds.

Riko’s eyebrow twitches and he takes the cigarette, once again dropping it and smearing it against the concrete with his foot, “Cameras spotted you, ‘henchmen’ made sure you stayed.”

Neil blows the smoke into his face. He isn't expecting Riko’s hand to latch onto his hair in that moment, but he knows it would come sooner or later. Rather than resisting, he follows the direction Riko pulls him in and forces himself not to struggle when that means being pulled into the Raven’s personal space. Riko’s other hand grabs a fistful of his jacket and holds him steady. At this close proximity, Riko practically nuzzles his face against Neil’s hair and breathes in.

“You smell like public transport and smoke. Where did you go this time?”

“Went to see a friend,” he grits out.

“And here I thought your mother’s contacts were all dead. I’ll be sure to fix that.”

“You sound awfully confident about that.”

“Relying on a dead woman’s connections is stupid,” Riko grins, “For a moment I didn't think you were too dumb to see that. There aren’t any benefits for helping a corpse and their kin. They know you may as well be as dead as she is.”

“Do you honestly think that I remained passive after she died?” Neil shudders when Riko inhales once again, “That I cried and moped around before coming back here? Her death didn’t make me sad, it made me angry. It’s laughable how you underestimate me. ”

“You haven’t given me a reason to change my mind,” Riko dismisses, “At least not yet. Should I be worried, Nathaniel? Are you threatening me?”

“We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we? Although I understand how hard that can be for you. Patience isn’t your strong suit.” Riko shoves him away, pushing him towards Castle Evermore’s front entrance.

“You’re not going into the Nest just yet,” He helpfully supplies with another shove to the shoulder, “The Master wants a word with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this took me forever. I'm officially moved out of my apartment and I'm so sore and in so much pain from all of the heavy lifting. I'm also done with that roommate so yay!  
> I'll try to be more consistent with updates, but I'll be a little busy these next 2 weeks. Jean and graphic content in the next chapter, and then we're not going to hear from Neil for a while. He's officially Neil now btw.  
> I'm not happy with the last chapter either, I feel like I wormed in Kevin's reasoning in a very jarring way. I will try and fix it later when I'm motivated and have time.  
> I'm also really sorry for the short chapter. I was just having a hard time for some reason  
> Thank you so much for reading! And for the tumblr messages! I love getting them and you're all so sweet <3


	11. The best part of waking up is Andrew Minyard scaring the shit out of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: biting, blood, forceful restraining (?) and open wounds. Nothing too graphic, but they're there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for butchering the characters.  
> I'm also sorry for Neil.

The talk goes exactly how Neil expects it to go.

He is taken to the Raven’s locker room. The Master, Tetsuji Moriyama, is waiting for him in the showers, dressed immaculately in a black designer suit. The gold sphere adorning the tip of his cane gleams in the fluorescent lighting.

He asks a few questions:

“Where were you?”

“Why did you leave?”

“What were you doing?”

It is in Neil’s best interest to answer him directly and honestly:

“I went to South Carolina.”

“Jean and I were attacked by our teammates.”

“I made arrangements for his transfer.”

The Master backhands him.

“You are lying.”

“I am not.”

The cane delivers the second blow. Neil falls to his knees.

“He will not transfer.”

“He already has.”

Another strike.

“You must have a reason for such insolence, however vapid it may be.”

Neil grimaces. “Riko arranged for the death of one of their Foxes. Surely you must know this.”

Riko risks a huff of laughter, as if to dismiss the absurd claim. The subtle glance the Master sends Riko tells Neil he did not.

“That’s a bold accusation to make.”

“He’s been bragging about it to the team, but most will feign ignorance if you ask. I’m sure further investigation into Seth Gordon’s death will give you the confirmation you need.”

The Master is quiet, eyes still on Riko. Neil doesn’t look up, keeping his own gaze trained on the floor as he waits for permission to speak.

“Continue.”

“The Foxes are at a disadvantage. Riko disqualified them with his irresponsible move.” Neil swallows blood. It makes sense to him why they’re in the shower room: easy clean up. “They won’t be able to play this season. The district change was unnecessary; the showdown between Kevin Day and Riko will not happen.”

The Master finally looks back at Neil. “Jean is Seth’s replacement.”

“That was my intention.”

The Master hits him on the back. Neil can’t hold back his pained grunt.

“Jean Moreau is not yours to do with as you please. He is Moriyama property.”

“You've also made him Riko’s responsibility, sir,” Neil draws in a ragged breath, “It’s because of Riko’s foolish actions that you won’t get your match. Riko should be held accountable for his mistake, so Jean’s transfer as Seth’s replacement seems to be a logical choice to make.

The Master hits him three more times, one of the blows catching him under the chin and sending him sprawling onto his back. Neil lays petrified for a moment, trying to see past the black spots in his vision before he slowly pulls himself back up to his knees. The Master waits until he’s up before speaking.

“And how exactly did you arrange this transfer so close to the season’s start?” Neil knows what the real question is.

“I didn’t use the Moriyama name or their funds, sir.”

“And the validity of the transfer itself?”

“There are documents that will make it appear as if this transfer started months ago.”

“And the Foxes?”

Neil shifts. “The only ones aware of this situation’s reality are Kevin Day, David Wymack, and Andrew Minyard. They know what the consequences are if they speak.”

The Master pulls a red handkerchief out from his pocket and wipes Neil’s blood off of the gold sphere.

“What do you think will happen to you if the Main Branch hears of this?” he drops the soiled cloth. Neil is prepared for this question.

“You are in charge of these affairs, sir, they will defer to your best judgement.” _Because these matters are too petty to concern themselves with._ The Master nods with what Neil hopes is approval. His expression has been unreadable the entire time.

“Riko, answer me honestly,” He says in Japanese without looking at his nephew, “is he telling the truth about Gordon?”

Riko hesitates, “...Yes.”

“As well as the team’s aggression?” Neil is relieved that the Master didn’t overlook his earlier answer.

“Yes.”

He doesn’t acknowledge his response, switching back to English for Neil.

“Attempt to take matters into your own hands again and your father’s name will not be able to save you.”

“It won’t happen again, sir.”

“I will arrange a meeting with Palmetto’s coach to have a statement put together,” Neil knows it’s a lie, but he doesn’t comment. If anything, it will be to scout out how much Wymack knows and how big of a security risk he is, “I will allow this for the year. Afterwards, Jean will come back to Castle Evermore. You are on probation; you will not play in the first 3 games of the season and you will not start in the 2 after that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The rest of the Ravens will be punished for their own transgression. You will be exempt from that, but I will leave your captain in charge of your discipline and training until further notice. After all, the two of you don't have partners. Will this be a problem Riko?”

“Not at all.”

“Thank you, sir.” Neil grits out. The Master turns and leaves, stopping briefly next to Riko. He backhands him as well.

“If you insist on acting like a child, I will treat you as such. This is your last warning.” He mutters in Japanese.

“It was an impulsive decision. It won't happen again,” Riko reassures him.

“See to it that Nathaniel knows the consequences of his actions. I want him to never even think of running again.”

“I will.”

“Practice is in 2 hours. Make sure you're done by then.”

“He'll be geared up in time for it.” The Master steps closer and places a hand on his shoulder. It’s a warning.

“Reign in your arrogance. It's an ugly trait to have. Clearly, it has spread to the rest of the team if they're willing to attack one another without considering the consequences.” The Master leaves, clearing a considerable amount of tension in the room with his exit. However, Neil can't relax yet, not with what he's just overheard looming above him.

He is still kneeling on the ground when Riko approaches him.

“You heard him,” he cheerfully calls in Japanese, as if he wasn't just humiliated in front of Neil, “and I know you understood what he said, too, just as you know what I'm saying now.”

Neil has a creative insult involving goats on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he settles for “Fuck off.” Riko laughs and kicks Neil's shoulder.

He falls back and slides on the tile a couple of feet from the force of it, his head hitting the ground in the same place as before and causing him to hiss.

“Boys,” Riko snaps to the dark, “hold his arms.”

Three men step out from their positions in the shadows at Riko's order. In a rare moment of surprise, Neil panics. He didn't see those men, didn't know they were there - The Master doesn’t allow an audience for his punishments _those men shouldn't be here._

He wants to get up, fight them off, but his body is sore from travel, the beating, and his head is killing him. It's easy for the two new faces to subdue him, kneeling next to him on either side and holding his arms above his head. The third stands by Riko, watching with familiar mismatched eyes.

“This is Dallas,” he motions to the one on the left, broad with black hair and a scar on his eyebrow, “he's an offensive dealer. The other one is Martin,” upon hearing his name, the dark skinned brunette smiles, “a backliner. Jakob also wanted to stop by and say hello. Greet your new teammates, Nathaniel.”

“You're just as bad as he is,” he spits at them, glaring at the two and tugging at his arms. They tighten their grip.

“To be compared to Riko Moriyama,” Martin coos with an unsettling grin, “I'll take it as a complement.”

Neil narrows his eyes, “I can already tell I'm not going to like you.”

“You don't even know me, Nathaniel,” Martin gasps, “I'm a huge fan, by the way.”

“I'm not too fond of fanatics,” he looks at Riko then, the implication of his message clear, “they're a little clingy.”

The smile drops from Riko's face. Apathy and anger battle in his eyes and he approaches, dropping to his knees when he's right between Neil's legs.

“I've always admired your legs,” he starts, hooking his forearms underneath Neil's knees. He pulls him forward until he can easily throw Neil's legs over his shoulders, his rear resting on Riko's lap, “I like watching you run, seeing the way your muscles move.”

When Riko starts to caress one of his legs reverently, Neil thrashes. Riko is expecting this and tightens his grip. He allows the other leg to fall, but before Neil can bring it up and kick the Raven, Jakob is at his side pinning the leg down.

“You've inherited so much from your mother,” Riko continues with his touches, moving on to his inner thigh. Neil tries struggling again but it's futile.

“Don't fucking touch me!”

“Her stature, her slimness, her jaw,” he lists without acknowledging Neil's outburst, “your legs have barely any hair on them. I wonder if you inherited that from her as well.”

“Sounds like you’re-” whatever Neil was going to say is abruptly cut off by a scream. He didn't expect the interruption. He didn't expect the hot pain shooting up his leg. He didn't expect the bite.

Riko sunk his teeth into the soft skin on Neil's calf. He increases the pressure until he draws blood, then bites even harder after that.

Neil is close to hyperventilating. He's biting down on his lip, trying to prevent another yell from escaping. There are tears streaming down his face. Martin laughs and wipes one away.

Riko finally detaches himself from Neil's leg. Neil releases a shaky sigh of relief through his mouth, his legs trembling and bottom lip bloody and raw from the effort it took to hold back his cries. Riko licks the wound, smearing some blood on his chin.

“It seems like this is the only way I'll ever be able to taste you,” Riko comments, pulling a knife from his back pocket. Jakob hands him a metal rod he has holding earlier and Riko puts it off to the side. “You had a choice and you chose wrong. But don't worry, Nathaniel, I'll still enjoy this.”

He maintains eye contact with Neil as he licks the open wound on his calf, his grin showing up bloody. Neil tries to suppress a shudder of disgust.

“I'm going to make you scream.”

  


* * *

 

 

Sunday is a complete disaster.

The group leaves from Columbia early enough to avoid the majority of traffic on the freeway. The car ride is silent for the most part, the tension thick enough to mute Nicky’s usual behavior of silly conversations and annoyance. Instead, he is seated quietly behind Kevin, puffy eyed and staring out the window.

Aaron is behind Andrew, his window rolled down as he absently holds the wind in his hand. He occasionally glares at his twin, even going so far as to kick the back of his seat when Andrew turns the radio on and obnoxiously cranks the volume up for a classic rock song.

Kevin is distracted with thoughts of Neil. Jean, too - probably - but mostly Neil. It’s obvious to Andrew, written in his scowl and stamped on his brow. Andrew is tempted to reach over and rub his face, but he’s driving and his car is worth more than all of the other shitty heaps of metal on the road combined.  

Andrew is Andrew, much to everyone’s displeasure.

They arrive an hour before 12 at Fox Tower. Aaron is the first one out of the car, Nicky following closely behind. Andrew takes his time to get out and grab his overnight bag while Kevin moves at an equally sluggish pace for different reasons altogether.

Andrew takes the extra time to shower, feeling grimy from the hours he spent awake and driving when he should have been sleeping with his back against the wall. When he’s done, he double checks the suite. He had done so before he and Kevin left to talk to coach hours ago, but he merely did a superficial glance around, since Neil was in the hallway with Kevin waiting to be escorted out. Looking around now, his spare lighter and a pack of cigarettes are missing from the windowsill.

“The hell is wrong with you?” Aaron snaps when Andrew continues his examination in the kitchen.

“At least try to sound like you want an answer,” he counters and closes the fridge door.

By the time Andrew is done, they still have 20 minutes to make it to the stadium. They haven’t seen the upperclassmen yet; Matt’s truck is still parked in the parking lot but Allison’s pink convertible is nowhere to be seen.  

The drive is short and just as awkward as their trip up from Columbia. Andrew still blasts the radio, Aaron still scowls, Kevin still frowns. The only difference this time comes from Nicky trying to reach forward and turn the radio off. Kevin shuts down his attempts with a slap on the wrist and a glare.

“Just leave it.”

“But-”

“Leave it.”

Andrew pointedly turns the volume up even louder, signaling that he wants them to shut up. It works.

When they park, Andrew makes a mental note of the increased squad cars at the entrances and stadium perimeter. With the shit that happened, Andrew isn’t surprised to see an increase of campus security’s numbers. The fact that they didn’t spot Neil breaking into Fox Tower doesn’t give him much faith in their competency.

Aaron has already entered the security code (the last 4 digits of Abby’s cell number) and is holding the door open for the rest of the group when Andrew finally gets out of the car.

“Move your ass or I’ll move it for you.”

“I’m almost tempted to let you,” Aaron rolls his eyes at Andrew’s remark and turns, dropping the door on Andrew’s arm in his haste. Andrew doesn’t ‘deeply’ care about the slight, just enough to childishly shove Aaron’s shoulder when he passes him in the lounge.

He leaves Aaron and Kevin to do whatever it is they plan on doing with the chairs in favor of following Nicky. His cousin retreats into the locker room and has his phone pressed to his ear when Andrew enters. He glances at his cousin and gives a weak smile.

“I’m calling Erik.”

“I don’t remember asking,” Andrew goes to his own locker and quickly opens the lock. He grabs his spare packet of cigarettes and another lighter and closes the door with a satisfying click. As he leaves, he hears Nicky speak quietly in German with his back to his cousin.

“Hello my love. No, I’m not ok, but I’m doing better. Still shaken…”

When he enters the lounge, he sees that the two have moved the furniture into a V formation.

“I’d rather not stare at an empty seat for the entire season,” Aaron supplies when Andrew glances at him, “Think of it this way: you and Kevin have the couch all to yourselves.”

Andrew throws himself onto the couch and spreads out, not bothering to move his legs when Kevin approaches to take the other side. Aaron narrows his eyes then and tenses his shoulders.

“Have you taken your medicine?”

“Don’t need to yet. I will after Wymack’s inevitable pep talk.”

“Andrew,” Aaron shifts slightly, “What’s going on during this meeting that you feel a need to sober up for?”

The door opens and the upperclassmen enter, minus Allison. Dan and Matt look with frowns at the new arrangement as Renee zeros in on the tension between the brothers. Andrew switches to German, “I’d like to genuinely enjoy the shock on everyone’s faces when Coach announces  that we’re adding another Raven to the team. Seth has to be replaced, after all.”

“Don’t fuck with me. I know you and Kevin left last night, I’m not an idiot.”

“Could have fooled me,” Andrew raises his eyebrows.

“Give me a straight answer, not this stupid Raven crap: where did you go?”

“Is everything ok?” Matt quietly asks Kevin. The striker gives him an unimpressed look.

“I don’t speak German.”

“Being nosey has never served you well in the past,” Andrew warns, “Don’t start again now.”

“I have a right to know if something is going to happen, especially when it affects me too!”

“The funny thing about your logic is whatever it is you think is going to ‘happen,’” he air quotes, “isn’t going to affect you.”

“Because you’re going to protect me from it? That’s complete bullshit!”

“Careful, Aaron,” Andrew flicks his wrist, showing the very tip of his knife so only Aaron could see, “you’re starting to annoy me.”

“Jesus, Andrew!” Matt interrupts their chat. He looks nervously between the twins, “Seriously? After we just lost Seth?!”

“You say that as if it’s supposed to mean something to me,” Andrew snaps and tilts his head, keeping his legs spread but bringing his arms closer to his body. Matt freezes and his entire demeanor changes.

“What did you say?”

“I can’t believe I have to spell it out for you: I don’t care for Seth’s death. Don’t act like you didn’t expect that.”

“How can you say that?!” Dan pipes up.

“I do not have the patience for this,” Andrew huffs, “He was never once productive on or off the court. He antagonized everyone he met, and just so happened to provoke the wrong kind of people - which only continues to support that he was an idiot. I’m not going to mourn over wasted space.”

Matt shoves a chair aside and kicks the table. Andrew is up the second Matt twitched and he’s ready to lunge. Both Dan and Renee jump on Matt in an effort to restrain him while Aaron dares to do the same to Andrew. He shoves his twin off and takes another step forward, grin manic and all teeth.

“Let him go, I want him to try and touch me!”

“Matt, babe, step off!” Dan hisses, “He’s not worth it!”

“Stop trying to piss him off, Andrew!”

“You need to keep a better eye on them, Renee.”

“Fuck you!” Matt snaps. He manages to break free from the girls and tries to land a punch on Andrew. He easily side steps the attempt and hits his forearm. He hisses but otherwise remains unaffected as he launches himself at Andrew. They both fall to the floor, but Matt doesn’t realize exactly how strong Andrew is.

Andrew is the first to recover and kicks Matt, forcing him onto his back. He allows his momentum to keep him in motion, rolling himself so that he’s on top of Matt and straddling his chest. He keeps his knife sheathed, coming to the decision that the upperclassman isn’t worth his blade, and hits him hard in the shoulder. Matt cries out from the sudden pain and tries to retaliate with a punch. Andrew catches it and pins his wrist to the side. With his free hand, he starts to hit Matt’s face.

Andrew lands three punches before Matt catches him in the throat with his other hand. Andrew chokes and the hesitation is enough to allow Matt to shove him off and roll onto his stomach. They’re both on their feet at the same time and both groups make a second attempt to hold them back. Dan grabs Matt from behind as Renee places herself between the boys, hand against Matt’s chest in a silent warning to stay put. Aaron and Nicky, who entered the room when the two were on the floor, each grab an arm and hold on tight as Andrew tries to shove them off.

He shrugs Nicky off easily and is working on getting Aaron off of him when they’re interrupted.

“The hell is going on here?!” Wymack shouts when he enters the room. Matt stops struggling against the two and gives Andrew one more glare before looking at their coach. Andrew doesn’t take his eyes off Matt but he does stop struggling. Aaron steps back.“Eyes over here Andrew, God damnit!”

He glances over.

“I don’t know what happened,” Nicky nervously mutters, “I was on the phone in the locker room and I heard something crash-”.

“Andrew is being a dick.”

“No surprise there,” Wymack dryly acknowledges. He sighs, “This was a bad idea; I didn’t think this through.”

“No, you didn’t.” Andrew agrees. Dan and Matt shoot him a glare. Aaron groans.

“Wilds, Boyd, Walker - I want you three to stay at Abby’s for a little bit. Andrew’s group can stay in the dorms. I want - and expect - zero contact between you two until Wednesday.”

“Why Wednesday?” Dan questions for the group.

Wymack hesitates before answering, “We’ll resume practice on Wednesday.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Aaron snarks, “With what team? Seth’s dead, we’re disqualified, and you still want to practice?”

“The season hasn’t started yet.”

“What a weak excuse.”

“We’re one below the minimum and the ERC sure as hell isn’t going to help us out.” Dan grudgingly agrees, “Do you think that’s a good idea, though? Seth just-”

“The ERC has yet to call me with any decisions yet. Until then, I’m still your coach, you’re still my players, and we’re still holding practice on Wednesday.” Wymack announces with an air of finality, “I want everyone in grief counseling with Betsy at some point during the week, I want everyone to stay in the city - no running to Columbia - and I want you two to keep the hell away from each other,” he gives pointed looks to Matt and Andrew. “If you so much as say each other’s names, I will have you registered for this Saturday’s marathon faster than you can throw a punch. Forms are in my office and I will not hesitate. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Coach.” Dan answers for the group. Wymack assesses them with a scowl before nodding.

“Reynolds called to let Abby know she’s at the hospital,” the three nod and leave as Wymack turns his attention to the other group. He keeps his eyes on Andrew as he says, “I wanted your asses out of here 5 minutes ago. Move it.”

The three boys leave, but Andrew stays in his spot. Wymack clearly wants to talk with him, and he has a feeling he knows what the topic will be.

Once they’re alone, Wymack rubs his face. “How long ago were you supposed to take your medication?”

The reminder makes his stomach lurch. “I’ve still got time.”

“I’m not paid enough to deal with the kind of bullshit I just saw,” Wymack warns, “If I see you and Matt brawl it out one more time-”

“Marathons and etc, I get it,” Andrew huffs and walks past him.

“Wait,” Andrew glances over his shoulder, “Aren’t you going to ask me about that Jean kid?”

“I’ll learn the answer soon enough.”

Renee is waiting for him in the foyer. “Are you alright?”

“Peachy,” he humors her. She nods.

“You said Seth ‘provoked the wrong people.’” She takes his silence as confirmation and sighs, nervously fiddling with her necklace, “I had a feeling that was the case. Are there any problems I should anticipate?”

“No. Just worry about that asinine backliner of yours.”

“I wouldn’t say he fought without reason,” Renee gives him a disapproving look.

“Don’t hold it against me if he tries again and comes back shredded.”

“Please try not to give him an excuse.” Andrew leaves her with a two fingered salute, quickly catching up with the group waiting for him in the hallway. Nicky is scowling with his arms crossed when Andrew approaches, Aaron looks slightly annoyed and Kevin is stoic. Andrew grins at his brother.

“Mad that Renee wouldn’t let you eavesdrop on me and Coach?” Aaron immediately spits a ‘fuck off’ and leaves. Andrew would have laughed if his stomach wasn’t churning uncomfortably. Kevin gives him a look that tells him he knows. He shrugs him off with a dismissive gesture and follows the other Minyard.

Andrew ignores Matt and Dan’s glares in the parking lot and the beats the upperclassmen to the dorm. Aaron and Nicky are the first to leave again, entering Fox Tower before Andrew even has the key out of the ignition.

“What did Coach want?” Kevin finally asks. Andrew doesn’t spare him a glance and opens his pill bottle, popping one into his mouth and swallowing it with a mouthful of warm bottled water.

“Use your imagination.”

“Did he say anything about Jean?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Why?” Andrew levels him with contempt. Kevin releases a frustrated sigh and gets out of the car, slamming the door much harder than necessary. Andrew follows shortly after.

“Careful, Kevin. That door is worth more to me than your life.”

“You could be more concerned, you know!” Kevin snaps, “Without him, our season is over and Riko-”

“Fucking junkie.” Matt’s truck rolls into the parking lot at that point. Andrew doesn’t care enough to even look in their direction as he lights a cigarette.

Before Kevin can get another word out, the doors to Fox Tower are thrown open and Nicky rushes outside. He looks like he’s about to throw up, fear and confusion evident in his eyes. He locks onto Andrew, ignoring Kevin and the approaching Foxes.

“Th-there’s a man in our room - a bleeding? Man?  H-he’s covered in cuts and-and-and I don’t know - why is there a bleeding man in our room?!”

“Does that answer your question?” Andrew snaps at Kevin, blowing smoke into his face. He throws his freshly lit cigarette onto the ground, scowling at the waste, before shoving Nicky aside and entering the tower. Kevin and Nicky are a few feet behind him as the upperclassmen follow at a farther distance.

Nicky is still asking ‘wh-wh-why there’s a _bleeding man_ in our suite’ when they reach the third floor. Andrew is tempted to shove him down the stairs.

“Keep them out,” Andrew instructs his cousin, briefly glancing at Dan, Matt, and Renee, “not Renee.” Nicky’s frown is still in place but he does as he’s told and stops at the top of the stairs. Andrew and Kevin continue down the hallway, where the door to their suit is still open.

“Stay,” he orders when they reach for door frame. Kevin looks like he wants to argue but keeps his mouth shut and does as he’s told. Andrew enters the room, immediately spotting Aaron and the figure on their couch.

Jean Moreau is a mess. He’s sweaty, pasty and pale, lips chapped and hair disheveled. The ‘3’ on his cheek stands out even more than usual. There’s a discarded shirt and burlap sack beside Aaron on the ground. His torso and arms are littered with bandages, a few soaked through with blood. He’s breathing deeply; Andrew can tell immediately he’s in a drug induced sleep.

Aaron is crouched beside him on the ground, lifting the soiled gauze to inspect the wounds. He barely glances at Andrew.

“He was wearing a bag over his head,” he supplies,  examining his arm with a frown, “Imagine my surprise when I saw he was a Raven.”

“What gave it away?” Andrew snaps and approaches his brother.

“What I find more shocking is that you told the truth.” Aaron holds a small corked bottle out for Andrew to examine, “This was on the table.”.

“Ask and ye shall receive.” Andrew grabs Aaron roughly by the arm and pulls him away from Jean. He shoves him toward the door and hisses, “Call Abby,” just as Renne squeezes past Kevin. He uncorks the vial and wafts the scent: smelling salts.

“May I?” she asks quietly, her eyes glued to Jean’s form. Out of everyone there, Renee is the most qualified in determining the severity of the damage. Andrew doesn’t stop her from passing, instead choosing to give Aaron one more warning glare and a harsh “Now, Aaron” to spur him into action.

Renee is gentle in her ministrations, gingerly touching and pulling at his skin. She quietly examines his arm and parts of his chest before giving Andrew an answer.

“They’re shallow cuts made with a very sharp knife, intended to look worse than they actually are. He is weak from blood loss right now and will be uncomfortable for the next few weeks, but it’s nothing life threatening,” She looks up at Jean’s face and carefully runs her fingers over the yellowing skin on his cheek, jaw, and temple, “The cuts were made a few days ago; they probably opened up when he was moved. He was beaten before this happened.”

Andrew nods and turns. “Be grateful that lines up with Neil’s story,” he calls over to Kevin as he approaches the group. Neil did say that he was beaten, but he never mentioned anything about cuts. The team standing in the doorway looks like they’re about to enter until Andrew blocks their path.

“No.”

“Andrew-”

“No, Kevin,” Andrew asserts once more, “No one goes near him until I’ve had the chance to talk to him. That includes your group,” he motions to Dan and Matt, “Do not test me on this. You won’t like the result.”

“Is that…” Dan motions to her own cheek before looking away from Jean to Andrew, “Is he a Raven?”

“‘That’ is none of your business.” he roughly pulls Nicky and Kevin into the room, leaving Aaron to take the hint before he closes the door in their faces. He suspects that Dan will be calling Wymack within minutes and turns to his group.

“Bedroom. Go. No one is allowed near him.”

“A Raven? What’s a raven doing in our suite?” Nicky chatters as he walks with Aaron, eyes glued to Renee and Jean, “Is this just a Raven thing to do? Kevin, what-?”

“Did you know about this, Kevin?” Aaron asks, “Buddy of yours?”

“Look at him! He’s shredded! What the hell happened to him?!” Nicky and Aaron disappear into the bedroom. Kevin hesitates by the door and glances at Andrew.

“Not a word,” Andrew answers his unasked question. Kevin turns and walks away, leaving Renee and Andrew alone with the Raven.

“Why is he here, Andrew?” She asks, “You don't appear to be surprised by this.”

“He's Seth’s replacement,” he answers honestly.

“You’re going to be watching him. Would you like my assistance?”

“No.”

“Andrew-”

“No, Renee.”

“And Kevin?”

Andrew bites his nail in thought, “Kevin isn't the problem.”

“But there is still a problem.”

He nods. “It'll be keeping that one here,” he gestures to Jean. Andrew maneuvers to Renee’s other side and holds the vial under his nose. Renee withdraws her hands and watches the interaction intensely.

When Jean is startled into consciousness, his pupils dilate as soon as he registers Andrew is standing above him.

“You know, Moreau,” he begins as Jean struggles to sit up, “your eyes react to whatever emotion you're feeling: excitement, arousal, fear…”

“Andrew,” Renee quietly warns. Jean looks widely around the room, as if desperate for a familiar face. Andrew is especially glad he made Kevin leave.

“You're scared shitless, aren't you?” He coos, tilting his head to stay in Jean’s line of sight. “That's good. You should be, because you're dealing with me now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to reiterate that there's NO RAPE in this fic. no matter what you think i'm implying, i'm never implying that.  
> I meant to post this on Friday, but i didn't like my original Andrew so i wanted to fix it. it took so long because i was in Reno for the weekend for my friend's birthday (which ended up being a disaster, but it's over now and i'm glad to be home) , and let me just say I am in so much pain from clubbing in heels for 2 hours. like damn. how do other women do it?  
> i'm back home now, so here's that update (finally). i know i said in my AN last chap that we weren't gonna hear from Neil for a while, and we're not. i meant after this chapter we're not. he'll probably be back chapter 13 or 14.  
> Thank you so much for waiting! i'm a little late in responding to comments and that's my bad, i'm just a terrible person. I'll try to update ASAP, i have some time on my hands for the next few days.  
> I think i caught all the errors, but i'll have to go back and double check for spelling, grammar, continuity, etc.  
> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos! they seriously brighten my day :3


	12. Oh, i can't wait to hear this.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Practice continues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, It's been a while. Notes are at the bottom. Sorry for the characters, I'm a little rusty :(

By some stroke of luck - for Jean at least - Abby was already on her way to Fox Tower when she got Aaron’s call. It was just a matter of speeding 20 miles over the limit and parking haphazardly in the lot for her to get there in time to stop Andrew’s interrogation before it even started. 

Andrew did have a few moments with Jean, in which he was completely useless and borderline hysterical. He kept attempting to stand, babbling in a mix of French, Japanese and English about how he didn’t know where he was and needed to get back to Edgar Allan as soon as possible. 

Renee managed to calm him down long enough to answer his questions:

“Where am I?”

“You’re at Palmetto State in South Carolina. I’m Renee Walker. Help is on the way to look at your wounds-”

“No hospitals!”

“It's alright, we didn't call an ambulance. No hospitals. Our team nurse Abigail will take care of you.”

“No, no, I can’t be here!”

Any coherent conversation ended when Abby knocked on the door. Andrew let her in and watched as she and Renee struggled to administer a sedative. His involvement would only result in more thrashing, so Abby made sure he stayed away.. 

Jean was taken to Abby’s home afterwards. Renee went with her. 

Seth was cremated Monday afternoon. A candlelight vigil was held  that night in the quad for Seth’s passing. Andrew and his group didn’t go. Everyone on the team received a group text from Wymack promising answers on Wednesday.

On Tuesday, a faculty member posted an image of Seth on the fence next to the entrance of the stadium. Students gradually left notes, cards, flowers, and trinkets on the sidewalk in front of it. No one was able to reach Wymack all day.

It's Wednesday morning and Andrew receives a text from Coach instructing him and Kevin to be at the stadium an hour earlier. Andrew is not concerned; he knows they’re just going to be talking about Jean and his injuries. Kevin is on edge.

He makes his brother and cousin pile into the car with them and they drive to the stadium. Once they arrive, Andrew gives a cursory glance towards the memorial on fence and exits the car. The engine is still running. 

“Go get food or something. We’re not supposed to be here for another hour.”

“Then why  _ are _ we here?” Nicky whines, “Kevin couldn’t wait another hour? There are other things you can do with your hands, you know. Preferably in the bathroom of our dorm.”

“This is the junkie we’re talking about,” Aaron adds with a scowl, “do you really think he’d settle for our bathroom when he has an entire stadium to get himself off?”

“Of course. My mistake.” Nicky groans and slides into the driver’s seat, ignoring Kevin’s red-faced glare, “Am I bringing you back anything? Doughnut? Drinks? Lotion?”

“Just leave already,” Kevin snaps. Nicky throws a half hearted smile towards him and closes the door. The engine roars as they back out of the parking spot.  Andrew and Kevin walk towards the gate.

Andrew inputs the security code and enters, letting the door fall on Kevin and ignoring his annoyed huff. Coach’s car was easy to spot in the parking lot, so Andrew is not surprised when he sees the man waiting for them in the lounge.

“Boys,” he greets. He looks tired.

“Man,” Andrew responds.

“Noticed you weren’t at the vigil on Monday.”

“Noticed we weren’t invited.”

“Andrew,” Kevin tries to warn.

“You don’t need an ‘invite’ to-” He stops his train of thought and pinches the bridge of his nose, “No, I’m not having this talk with you. That’s not why I called you here.”

“Then get to it already,” Andrew yawns, “Unlike Kevin, I don’t like spending my free time in the stadium.”

“How’s Jean?” the striker asks.

“He’ll live. The cuts aren’t serious; they only look bad. He was beaten before he got them and that’s left him with some bruised ribs and a purple face.  He bounced back fast, though, and we caught him trying to sneak out to go back to Edgar Allan last night.”

“He won’t stop,” Kevin mumbles scowling, “I knew this was a bad idea. He won’t cooperate with us, it’s like asking a fish to climb a tree.”

“Don’t,” Andrew gives him a mixed look of disappointment and disbelief, “don’t do that again.”

“What?”

“Attempt to use idioms.”

Kevin gawks, “It’s Einstein!”

“It doesn’t mean what you think it means. That stupid Frenchman is more than capable to make that choice.”

“You don’t understand what it’s like-”

“Eyes over here,” Wymack snaps, “we’re not getting side tracked to talk about Goddamn interpretations of quotes. Moreau’s status is one reason why I wanted to see you early,” There’s brief hesitation, a look sent Kevin’s way, before he rips the proverbial Bandaid off: “I had a meeting with Coach Moriyama yesterday.”

Kevin stiffens at the name. Andrew wants to hit him. “Sounds like fun. Wish I could have gone.”

“It wasn’t technically with Tetsuji, I met with a member of his PR team,” he admits.

“Why would you get my hopes up like that?” Andrew moves and sits on one of the couches. Kevin stays frozen in his spot and Wymack hovers near him.

“What happened?” The striker looks significantly smaller next to their coach and Andrew isn’t successful at hiding his irritation.

“Woke up, had a cup of coffee, left to go to work. Outside, this fancy car was waiting for me. Guy gets out and tells me he works PR for Edgar Allan’s Exy team and that he’d like to discuss Jean Moreau’s contract.”

“I’m surprised it took him that long.”

“According to the Rep, Coach Moriyama has already gotten in contact with the ERC. They had approved of the change, but,” he gives Andrew a knowing look, “they didn’t know the reason why. Edgar Allan is taking it upon themselves to correct the mistake; that’s why they sent someone to personally inform me and the school board of the reason why I was getting a player so close to the start of the season. That should have been the ERC’s job, but ‘clerical errors’ left them without that information as well.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this.” Wymack shoots him a warning look to quiet down. Andrew acquiesces with artificial mirth in his eyes.

“Based on what little you’ve told me, it seems like they’re allowing the truth: There was some bad blood between Jean and another teammate –Grant Hansen– who didn’t agree with Jean’s style of feedback. Threatened another teammate, Jakob Petrov, to help him ‘teach Jean a lesson’ and the two ganged up on Josten and Moreau. Petrov held one back as Hansen beat the other,.” Wymack places a hand on Kevin’s shoulder, jolting him out of his daze. He watches the striker with a critical eye, “How does that sound to you? Does it sound like they fucked with me? ‘Cause I sure as hell feel like they made a fool out of me.”

“They’re bartering bits of truth to sell a convincing story,” Kevin admits, “it’s a common thing for the PR team to do. Grant and Jakob were involved, but many others were as well. There has been tension between Riko and Grant for years, Riko would use this as an opportunity to get rid of him.”

“Via scandal and public humiliation? Bone breaking must be reserved for the special ones,” Andrew drums his fingers on top of the arm rest, “You mentioned a contract.”

Wymack rubs his jaw, “They tried to get me to sign off on a contract stating that after a year, Moreau would return back to the Raven’s roster. I told them I wouldn’t sign off on anything that funneled him back into their team, and that since he’s on my roster now I wasn’t going to present him with a contract like that either.”

“How did they react?” Kevin manages to keep his tone even.

“They tried to convince me that he would return with or without that condition in writing. I said ‘if you’re so sure of that then get rid of the clause. There’s no reason for it to be there.’”

“Did they?”

“Yes,” he rolls his eyes at the look of surprise on Kevin’s face, “don’t look at me like that, I can get shit done. I have 5 copies of the damn thing in my office. I need Moreau to sign off on them and I need you two to get him to do it.”

“Us?”

“Renee can only do so much,” Wymack directs the next statement at Kevin, “I’m hoping you can give him that final push.”

“Renee is still with him?” Andrew speaks up.

“Yes.”

He clenches his jaw, his tension stemming from annoyance. He  _ told _ her that the Frenchman wasn’t her concern.

“She’s been practically glued to his side.” Wymack continues, “He never wants to be left alone with me.”

“I’m not sur-”

“Yeah, none of us do. I thought you knew this already.” Kevin’s posture stiffens, but he pointedly ignores Andrew’s interruption.

“It’s how we’re conditioned in the nest. The moment you’re recruited you’re assigned a partner. You go everywhere with that partner – privacy is a privilege you’re quickly stripped of on the first day,” he casts a quick glance over his shoulder at Andrew and adds, “even now, I prefer to have company.”

“You see? I don’t drag him places; he follows me everywhere.”

“When can we see him?”

“After practice,” Wymack promises, “the ERC has it on good faith from both Edgar Allan’s and my end that Moreau will accept the contract and play for the Foxes this year. They’re being generous, given our recent… tragedy.”

_ And the green in their pockets, I’d imagine,  _ Andrew is tempted to say,  _ not to mention Coach Moriyama’s own connection to the committee _ . He refrains.

“I need to send the signed copies out to Edgar Allan, the ERC, and Palmetto’s admins ASAP. In the meantime, an amended roster for our team has been shared with the other coaches in our district, as well as Edgar Allan’s own updated list. Hansen, obviously, got kicked off, Petrov is on probation and under investigation, and they have a few new recruits this year. They’re dramatic little shits who’ve managed to hide their new additions until the very last second.  We’ll be going over the other team’s rosters during practice. It looks like Blackwell University has made some significant changes, too.”

“Will you also tell the others about Jean?” Kevin shifts. Wymack releases a heavy sigh.

“Yeah. I’ve been getting calls from Dan non-stop. It’s about time, now that we’re getting this all finalized. Once the contract is signed, the ERC will publish the names for the public. For now, only the other schools and the ERC are aware of the switch.”

“The press is going to dig their claws into this scandal,” Andrew can hear the distant sound of a door opening.

“I’ll talk more about that when the team gets here. I’m not keen on repeating myself.”

The door opens and Matt and Dan enter. Renee and Allison are absent. They’re only partially surprised to see Kevin and Andrew there early.

“Where are the other two?” Dan asks.

“On their way,” Kevin answers with his familiar mask of nonchalance. He turns and sits next to Andrew on the couch. Matt and Dan take their own seats, giving Coach and the other two odd looks.

When Nicky and Aaron come 10 minutes later, Wymack starts the meeting.

“There’s a lot I want to cover today before we get on the court.”

“Alright,” Aaron leans forward in his seat, “let’s start with the bleeding elephant in the room.”

“How did he even get in the Tower with no one noticing?” Matt asks, confidence gained from Aaron picking the topic. “He’s Jean Moreau, right? He had a number 3 on his cheek and the Ravens are the only ones who do that sort of stuff.”

“What I want to know is if Kevin knew about this,” Dan starts, throwing a suspicious look his way, “Did you have something to do with this? Andrew?” Andrew responds with a raised eyebrow.

Wymack shakes his head, his shoulders slumping slightly as he scratches his chin.

“By all means, Coach, do tell,” Nicky grins. Wymack ignores him.

“Yes, the kid is Jean Moreau. He was previously the Raven’s starting backliner. He’s our new striker.”

“What?” Dan has the loudest reaction, “Coach, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“It’s the best one we’ve got,” He counters with a look at Andrew and Kevin, “I’ve been reassured that we’re actually doing the kid a favor.”

“Shit will hit the fan soon enough,” Andrew chimes in, “Just be patient.”

“Wait,” Dan ignores the goalkeeper, “Can you elaborate on that?”

“Andrew’s right. In a few days - maybe even hours - a scandal is going to break. Jean Moreau was attacked by a teammate over a disagreement in judgement. The ERC has been made aware and is going to launch an investigation to see if there are any other conflicts surrounding his attacker, but for the rest of the year, until this whole mess settles out, Jean will be a Fox. 

“Abby says he’ll be fit to practice next week, so we’ll have to forfeit our first match.  There’s no way he can play in the condition he’s currently in-”

“I’m sure he says otherwise,” Andrew chimed in.

“-and he also needs time to get acquainted with the striker position.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Nicky flails his hands, “Back up for sec. Jean was attacked by a teammate? Who?!”

“One of their strikers, Grant Hansen.”

“Fucking Christ,” Matt runs a hand through his gelled spikes, horrified, “I remember him. He’s almost as tall as I am, nearly twice my bulk. That poor guy...”

“He’s got a lot of flesh wounds but he’ll live,” Kevin fills in, “It looks a lot worse than it is.”

Dan levels him with a glare, “For a second, it sounded like you cared.”

“I’m assuming he’s grown up as a backliner,” Aaron cuts in, “if that’s the case-”

“He will learn. Give me 2 weeks and he’ll be acceptable. He’s always been devoted and a hard worker, he won’t disappoint us.”

“Oh great, we’re getting a second Kevin. Does this mean more shit from the Ravens for us?”

Wymack cracks his knuckles, “In case you haven’t noticed already, security has been doubled. It’ll be tripled once Moreau signs off on his contract-”

“He hasn’t even signed yet?” Nicky scoffs, “How do we even know that he will?”

“He will,” Kevin reassures with conviction he was missing earlier. Andrew nearly rolls his eyes.

“And the university is just…” she trails off, trying to articulate her thoughts, “They’re just okay with this?”

“The school has been made aware of the situation and Jean’s own interests on the topic. As long as he’s insistent on continuing to play, they’ll allow him admission on our team.”

“And is he?” Aaron asks with skepticism, “Is he still ‘interested?’”

“I’m ending this line of conversation for the time being,” Dan looks like she wants to argue, but a head shake from Wymack ends the attempt, “In the meantime, practice will continue as normal. I have the roster’s for the rest of the teams in our district and we’re not the only ones getting a facelift. We’ll go over that once you’ve warmed up. Allison has been excused for the rest of the week and Renee will join us tomorrow.” he looks everyone over one more time before pulling the keys for the equipment locker out of his pocket. “Go change into your gear. Rackets will be waiting for you on the court.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Wow, it's been a while. a month?  
> you see, this is why i hate WIPs. i really should have finished the whole thing before posting. that way, i wouldn't have to torture you guys. what sucks even more is that this isn't even a good chapter. Writers blocks are hard! i think i might bring Neil in again (even though i said i wouldn't) just because i need to get the creative juices flowing.  
> you know what really sucks? I already have everything planned. i know exactly whats going to happen and how this will end, it's just hard to type it.  
> School started back up for me. I'm the president of my club, in my last year of undergrad, and i have an internship and work so writing will be hard. I'll try, you guys deserve so much better than me  
> that being said, i'm a little rusty when it comes to writing Nora's children. I've been reading so many articles and 15th century British betrayal plays that i'm sitting here going "DID I MAKE AARON FEEL TOO MUCH?! OH GAWD" and the usual thoughts i have when writing.  
> There have been some continuity errors that i will go back and fix. trust me, i'm aware :( also, this chapter hasn't been beta'd but i have work in 20 minutes so i don't have time to do it right now.  
> i also haven't been on tumblr for a while. there was a good 2 weeks where i didn't have internet in my new apartment, but that's taken care of so i have no excuse.  
> What else is there to share? hmmm....Oh, i was basically sexually assaulted on a bus a few days ago. i was sitting in an aisle seat with my shoulder sticking out a little into the aisle way and the guy holding onto a pole attached to the back of my seat kept rubbing his crotch against my shoulder. i was honestly frozen in shock. i couldn't believe it was happening until he MOANED. i turned to him and told him to back off after that. i'm a very glad i did and a little regretful too because when i turned around to tell him that, i was nearly eye level with his erection. i got drunk on saturday to try and forget the whole ordeal, it was awful. thinking about it now makes me want to burn my skin.  
> sorry, TMI.  
> i hope everyone has been well, and again thank you so much for supporting this shitty author. I'll try me best to get a better chapter out ( As well as answering that Andriel prompt that's been sitting in my inbox. sorry!!) as soon as possible.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter felt weird to me. sorry for ruining the characters

“Knock knock,” Andrew taps the wooden frame with his knuckles, a fake smile plastered on his face. Jean’s blanketed form jolts upright at the intrusion, body tense and ready to move when Kevin files into the room. Upon sighting the intruders, he shifts from surprise to a glare. Kevin leaves his duffel bag by the door and shuffles the contracts from under his arm into his hands.

When he sits, Jean looks like he’s personally offended by the space he’s taking up. Kevin places the papers on the table.

“Abby says you’ll be able to move with relative ease by Friday.”

“Where’s Renee?” he asks, eyes flickering back and forth between the two.

“Downstairs. She left while you were sleeping.”

“How long ago was that?” he lashes an arm out and grabs the clock on the bedside table, ignoring Kevins reply of ‘probably 10 minutes’ before putting it back. “Why are you here?”

“We have a proposition for you.”

“You have a proposition, not me.”

“Andrew-”

“What is that?” he bobs his head toward the stack on the night stand.

“A contract.”

There’s a pause.

“...Oh, no,” he huffs, “You’ve got to be kidding me. You want me to play for you?”

“You have to play for us.”

“‘Have to?’ No, I will not stoop so low.” he pointedly looks at Andrew, who feigns surprise.

“Oh. Oh my God, was that a short joke?”

“Look, if you would just read the contract you’d see-”

“I’m a Raven, have you forgotten that? As soon as I heal I’m going back to the Nest,” he sniffs, “This is just a temporary set back.”

“Read it.”

“No.”

“Jean, I swear to God - just _read_ it.”

“ _No._ ” Kevin rubs his face and releases a groan.

“Listen-”

No, _you_ listen,” He leans forward slightly, unfolding his arms to grab the stack of papers and hold it in Kevin's face, “Even if I wasn’t contracted to play with the Ravens, it doesn’t matter what this says. If I sign this then I'm signing my death warrant.” He throws the papers to the side, keeping eye contact with his former teammate as the packets flutter to the ground. “I am not the son of Kayleigh Day. I do not have the reputation of the Baltimore Butcher to soften the blows. I’m cattle sold at the market, and this stunt you pulled is going to get me killed.”

“‘The stunt _I_ pulled?’” He quotes with a scoff, kicking one of the copies of the contract off of his shoe, “ _I_ haven’t done anything.”

“How else could I have gotten here?!” his accent barely seeps into his tone as he motions towards Andrew, “It certainly wasn’t the little monster over there!”

“My pride,” Andrew says dryly, his expression still void of emotion, “You’ve wounded me; oh, how it hurts.”

“I don’t care for your reasons, and I clearly don’t want to hear them,” Jean continues, “You need to take me back now, or Neil-”

“Neil was the one who brought you here,” his attention snaps towards Andrew and his scowl deepens.

“Don’t you _dare_ use him in your lies-”

“I don’t give two shits about you- hell, I don’t even give one. Kevin, as you can see, is still too timid to even think about helping you out on his own, and you literally know no one else outside of your cult. Don’t be an idiot, who else could it have been?”

“Neil would never be so cruel.”

“No, no, he would,” Andrew corrects, “He _is_ inflicting you upon me, after all.”

“You dare to-”

“I’m sick of this,” Kevin stands and shoves Jean’s chest, slamming him against the headboard and cracking the back of his head against the wall. Jean hisses, but isn’t given time to recover before Kevin starts his tangent.

“You need to stop using Neil to justify getting angry. You’ve always done this, even before Riko broke you- _yes_ ,” he interrupts Jean before he can voice his denial, “broke you. He _broke_ you, Jean. This demeanor you’ve adapted isn’t you ‘playing it smart’ to get by, this is trained behavior from a punishment-reward system.”

“More like a punishment-punishment system.”

“Not now, Andrew,” Kevin snaps before he can even think. Andrew allows the barest hint of a grin.

 _“Connard!”_ he snarls. What follows in rapid French seems to put Kevin on edge. Andrew can see veins bulging and his face turn red. He retorts with his own come back in the same language; Jean seems surprised at first before anger starts to set in the longer Kevin talks. If only there was a way for Andrew to understand them...

“English,” he chimes in, “now.”

The transition is seamless for Kevin, “You wouldn’t believe the kind of people I’ve had to deal with since leaving the Nest: a team in shambles on the brink of ruin, doctors that doubted my recovery every step of the way through rehab, parasitic reporters looking to make money off of my tragedy, ‘fans’ incessantly asking ‘if’ I’ll play, ‘when’ I’ll play, ‘how’ I’ll play,  the humiliation of backhanded ‘praise’ from the Master and the Ravens, the daily frustration of living with God damn wasted talent-” Andrew rolls his eyes, “- the constant pain as a reminder of my failure! But you? It’s disgusting to see how ungrateful you are.”

“ _Vous ne semblez pas-_ _”_

“English!” The two Foxes snap in unison. Jean hesitates before complying.

“Ungrateful? Me? I am exceedingly thankful for the opportunities given to me, for the chance to make something of myself - a possibility I never would have envisioned in Marseille. I’m just not _grateful_ to _you_ for _taking that away from me!”_

“Is this what Stockholm Syndrome looks like?” Andrew muses to himself. Jean twitches, resisting the urge to lunge at him when Kevin captures his attention.

“I don’t want your gratitude. I don’t give a shit about your gratitude. I didn’t even want to ‘take you away.’ I want you to acknowledge exactly what Neil has done for you and I want you to repay him by doing what he asked.”

“And he asked for me to play for you? For your poor excuse of an Exy team?” Jean shifts, “These Foxes are only in the Class I Division because of a handout given to the coach. I will not sully my reputation with your kind, he wouldn’t ask that of me.”

“Your reputation is already ‘sullied.’” Andrew yawns with nonchalance, “Do you even know you’re not a Raven anymore?” Jean narrows his gaze on the blonde.

“You-”

Andrew is almost ecstatic at the fun he’s going to have in updating Jean. Almost. “‘Birds of a Feather Rip Out Feathers. Class I Exy star Jean Moreau leaves the Edgar Allan Ravens after brutal attack from a teammate.’”

“What?” his eyes widen with mixed confusion and horror. Kevin sees where this is going and  takes his laptop out of his discarded duffel, most likely to search for the article being quoted

“‘Last Friday, when heading to his dorm room from training, Moreau was cornered and beaten by striker Grant Hansen. Hansen intimidated fellow teammate Jakob Petrov with threats against his own safety, as well as that of their other teammates, to help him with his attack. Petrov was responsible for restraining Nathaniel Josten, the only other witness to the attack, as Hansen subdued the _now ex-Raven._ ’”

“Stop it-”

“‘Overtaken with guilt,’” he theatrically clutches at his chest, “‘Petrov released Josten and the two stopped the attack before Moreau could sustain any serious injuries.’” Kevin holds his laptop out to Jean, the article published mere hours earlier present on the screen. Jean hesitates before he gingerly grabs it and puts it in his lap. “Head coach of the Edgar Allan Ravens Tetsuji Moriyama released a press statement this morning detailing the circumstances of the attack.”

“No, no…” Jean mutters, eyes glued to the screen, “That isn’t right…”

“Go ahead and read, I’ll wait,” Andrew grants with a pleased smile. He can see that Kevin has his eyes trained on Jean’s reaction, waiting for the opening he needs to tip him over the edge and into Fox territory. Manipulative junkie.

As if sensing his judgement, Kevin glances over to Andrew with a glare that reads ‘as if _you’re_ one to talk’ before stepping forward.

“Jean…” he starts, “do you see what’s going on now?”

“He’s going along with this?” He asks weakly, staring at the screen in disbelief, “He’s going along with this _and_ he’s covering it up?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Why would they ever-” he cuts himself off and glances at the contract packets littering the floor. “Did they write the contract with your team?”

“Our Coach discussed the details with them. He didn’t let them do anything to screw you over.”

“And they just let him?”

“He made it so that they couldn’t funnel you back onto their team.”

Jean’s expression drops, “Of course they’d put that in.”

“They didn’t. Wymack made sure of it.”

“It’s in there somewhere,” he gestures to the paper on the floor.

“He reasoned that if they were so confident in you returning, then there’d be no need for them to put a requirement like that in.”

“And it’s also super illegal.”

“Andrew.”

“It probably is though.”

_“Andrew.”_

“You play with us for a year and then you leave. I don’t want to see you in orange any more than I have to,” he ignores their expressions in favor of checking his nails.

“If I’m not playing for them, they’re going to send someone to break my hand,” Jean clenches his fist, knuckles turning white, “They’ll break my arms. Riko always promised he’d break my arms - he always promised he’d break Neil’s legs, he’s going to break Neil’s-”

“He won’t,” Kevin harshly interrupts, “He can’t. The Master won’t let him. One ex-Raven facing off against his former partner on the court makes for good press, but two?” he grabs Jean’s shoulder, jolting him out of his daze, “He needs Neil to play if he wants the headlines.”

“I can see the tacky posters now,” Andrew dramatically announces with flourish, “Oh, how the fans will cheer and scream! Orange versus back! The Has Beens and the Wanna Bes!”

“Enough, Andrew!” He grins at Kevin’s outburst and winks, “Jean, are you with us?”

There’s a beat of silence between them, broken by the ‘realization’ that hits Jean like a freight train:

“This is an evaluation.”

Andrew almost laughs. He’s about to say something when Kevin shakes his head in a curt jerk.

“They’re testing me,” Jean continues, thinking out loud, “With you gone, new members joining and current members going through extensive training over the summer, the hierarchy is in shambles. It’s already clear that I am better than the majority, but am I really skilled enough to retain my position? Am I skilled enough to advance?” Horror crosses his face, “Am I on probation? Is this my only chance at redemption?”

Andrew can’t believe how he lucked out with Kevin. If he had come to Palmetto with this rationale, he probably would have stabbed his other hand.

“Will you sign?” Kevin asks once more.

As if snapping out of a trance, Jean blinks a couple of times before looking up at the Striker, jaw clenched, “I have to.”

“There is a condition,” Kevin adds, “We’re not looking for a backliner. We need a Striker.”

There’s hesitance underneath his determination, “I… can learn.”

“Not ‘can.’ You _will_ learn,” he corrects, “You have to. I will teach you. I know how you play, I know your determination - I will not be so forgiving with you as I have been with the Foxes.”

“‘Forgiving?’” Andrew asks, “Is that what you call it?”

“I’ll ask you once again: will you sign?”

“I will,” His eyes are cold; hard like steel.

Kevin reaches forward and takes his laptop out of his lap. He shuts it and tucks it under his arm, “Pick up the contracts. Sign them. Bring them to the kitchen. We’ll wait for you there.”

He turns and exits the room, pausing by the door to grab his duffel before proceeding down the hall. Andrew glances back at Jean, grins, and - like a cat - reaches to the desk near by and knocks over the pencil cup. “Some pens, if you need them,” he ‘helpfully’ supplies before following Kevin.

Upon entry into the kitchen, Wymack is waiting with Abby by the sink, Renee sitting at the table with a cup of tea and a concerned look at Kevin. She directs her gaze to Andrew and smiles. “Kevin just told us the good news. I’m glad you two were able to convince him.”

“He convinced himself,” Andrew clarifies before Kevin can get a word in, “thinks it’s part of a huge conspiracy - that the Ravens are evaluating him and he’s on probation.”

“Christ,” Wymack groans and rubs his eyes. “Did you at least attempt to correct him?”

“No,” Kevin answers, “Nor should we. It’s under this assumption that he agreed to sign the contracts.”

“We can’t just let him think-”

“Any effort made at liberating him from the Raven mindset will only be viewed as a challenge he must pass in order to get back into Coach Moriyama’s good graces,” Renee clears up. Andrew narrows his eyes at her and she responds with a shrug and a mysterious smile. He had known she would eavesdrop.

“It’ll be pointless. All that matters is that he’s playing for us now and we’re still in the season.”

“Kevin,” Abby starts before she’s interrupted by Wymack.

“Would it kill you to be a bit more concerned?”

“I _am_ concerned,” Kevin defends petulantly, “The team is nowhere near ready and Jean needs to start as soon as possible if we’ll have any chance of avoiding a disaster next week.”

“I can start tomorrow,” they turn towards the hallway and see the Frenchman standing there, biting back a grimace. He enters the kitchen and places the pile of papers on the table, pointedly slamming the pen down in front of Andrew.

“That’s not a good idea,” Abby scolds, starting to move towards Jean, “I recommend staying in bed for another week, or at least a few days.”

“He’s had worse,” Kevin reassures her. Jean confirms the same with a nod.

“I’ll play tomorrow. Am I to stay here the entire time?”

“No, you’re moving in the dorms with the rest of the team.”

“There’s a vacancy,” Andrew supplies. Abby looks at him with a disapproving frown. “He’s not staying in my suite. Give him to Matt.”

“Andrew-”

“Non-negotiable, Kevin.” the striker’s eye twitches and he looks at Jean.

“Will this be a problem?” Wymack asks, inked arms crossed.

Jean hasn’t looked away from Andrew. Sneering, Andrew is voicelessly daring him to keep staring. Self-preservation wins.

“No,” he looks to Wymack and winces, “it won’t be a problem. I...appreciate the opportunity to play on your team.”

“Likewise,” Wymack answers, equally rigid, “Abby will give you one more checkup while I make some calls. Then we’ll do some shopping and get you some clothes. Something tells me your Coach won’t be sending your things over anytime soon.”

“There’s no need. I will be back soon enough.” Andrew can see that Wymack is close to physically stopping himself from responding as Abby gently ushers Jean from the room.

“Swear to fucking God,” Wymack mumbles under his breath as he pulls his phone from his pocket. He steps out of the room as he dials, leaving the three teammates alone in the kitchen.

“I’ll text you when we leave the house,” Renee says as she tucks a strand of pink hair behind her ear.

“I distinctly remember telling you he’s not yours.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be his friend.”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re his friend. He won’t be yours.”

“I can live with that.”

He gives her a look, “You can be so difficult sometimes.”

She responds with a warm smile and sips her drink, saying nothing as Andrew exits the kitchen. Kevin heaves the duffel back up once more, trailing after him. Renee is by herself once again, phone on the table, mug in hand, and the chain of her necklace warm against her skin. Andrew believes he'll never understand how she comes to have this faith in others. Honestly, he's not too interested in it either. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These past 3 weeks have literally been the worst. anything that could possibly go wrong has, i'm spreading myself thin between my work and school and internship, i had a death in the family, the people i deal with on a regular basis are idiots, my patience is completely gone and people have started to notice - just not a good semester for Frenchie.  
> this hasn't been beta-ed, if i have time (probably won't be for another few weeks) I'll go back and fix.  
> I'm extremely sorry about the delay. i had a majority of this typed for the longest time, but the bitch known as life decided i deserved to have some shit thrown at my door (figuratively, I swear)  
> I'll do my best to update quickly, i'll even throw in some Neil in the next chapter. i said i wouldn't but i feel horrible. i am so sorry for the wait.  
> i hope you liked this. it felt like an awkward weird chapter but we're finally getting somewhere. finally.  
> thanks for sticking with this WIP. I won't abandon it, i promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr if you want~  
> fennec-faux.tumblr.com


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